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LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  of  ILLINOIS, 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


GREAT 


VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS 

CORELLI  TO  PADEREWSKI 


BY 

GEORGE  T.  FERRIS 


NEW  EDITION 

REVISED  AND  ILLUSTRATED 


NEW 

PPLETON 


YORK 

AND  COMPANY 


^97 


Copyright,  1881,  ISC 5, 

By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


jotf'  DS  Tn-c  C . A 8 


PREFACE  TO  THE  REVISED  EDITION. 


The  continuous  demand  for  this  series,  in- 
cluding the  five  volumes,  “ Great  German  Com- 
posers,” “ Great  Italian  and  French  Composers,” 
“ Great  Singers,”  First  and  Second  Series,  and 
“ Great  Violinists  and  Pianists,”  has  led  to  the 
revision  of  the  volumes.  Nearly  twenty  years 
have  passed  since  the  first — “ The  Great  German 
Composers” — was  written,  and  many  changes 
have  taken  place  since  then.  The  attempt  has 
been  made,  so  far  as  is  consistent  with  the  limits 
of  space,  to  bring  these  little  books  down  to 

fdate,  revising  the  articles  where  it  wras  needed, 
and  making  addenda  in  sketches  of*  living  or 

rO 

\ very  recently  living  composers  and  artists,  wdio 
may  be  said  to  represent  most  fully  the  achieve- 
ments and  tendencies  of  contemporary  music. 


3 V 


PREFACE  TO  THE  REVISED  EDITION. 


It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  the  obligations  of 
limit  have,  even  in  this  revision,  excluded  sev- 
eral subjects  fully  worthy  of  association  with 
the  others. 


NOTE. 


The  title  of  this  little  book  may  be  mislead- 
ing to  some  of  its  readers,  in  its  failure  to  in- 
clude sketches  of  many  eminent  artists  well 
worthy  to  be  classed  under  such  a head.  There 
has  been  no  attempt  to  cover  the  immense  field 
of  executive  music,  but  only  to  call  attention  to 
the  lives  of  those  musical  celebrities  who  are 
universally  recognized  as  occupying  the  most 
exalted  places  in  the  arts  of  violin  and  piano- 
forte playing ; who  stand  forth  as  landmarks  in 
the  history  of  music.  To  do  more  than  this, 
except  in  a merely  encyclopedic  fashion,  within 
the  allotted  space,  would  have  been  impossible. 
The  same  necessity  of  limits  has  also  compelled 
the  writer  to  exclude  consideration  of  the  ca- 
reers of  noted  living  performers ; as  it  was 
thought  best  that  discrimination  should  be  in 
favor  of  those  great  artists  whose  careers  have 
been  completely  rounded  and  finished. 

An  exception  to  the  above  will  be  noted  in 


NOTE. 


vi 

the  case  of  Franz  Liszt ; but,  aside  from  the  fact 
that  this  greatest  of  piano-forte  virtuosos,  though 
living,  has  practically  retired  from  the  held  of 
art,  to  omit  him  from  such  a volume  as  this 
would  be  an  unpardonable  omission.  In  con- 
nection with  the  personal  lives  of  the  artists 
sketched  in  this  volume,  the  attempt  has  been 
made,  in  a general,  though  necessarily  imper- 
fect, manner,  to  trace  the  gradual  development 
of  the  art  of  playing  from  its  cruder  begin- 
nings to  the  splendid  virtuosoism  of  the  pres- 
ent time.  The  sources  from  which  facts  have 
been  drawn  are  various,  and,  it  is  believed, 
trustworthy,  including  French,  German,  and 
English  authorities,  in  some  cases  the  personal 
reminiscences  of  the  artists  themselves. 

To  the  present  edition  have  been  added 
sketches  of  Joachim,  the  great  modern  repre- 
sentative violinist,  and  of  Rubinstein,  Billow, 
and  Paderewski  among  recent  pianists.  Por- 
traits greatly  increase  the  attractions  of  the 
volume. 


CONTENTS. 


THE  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

PAGE 

The  Ancestry  of  the  Violin.— The  Origin  of  the  Cremona 
School  of  Violin-Making. — The  Amatis  and  Stradiuarii. 

— Extraordinary  Art  Activity  of  Italy  at  this  Period. — 
Antonius  Stradiuarius  and  Joseph  Guarnerius.— Some- 
thing about  the  Lives  of  the  Two  Greatest  Violin-Mak- 
ers of  the  World. — Corelli,  the  First  Great  Violinist. — His 
Contemporaries  and  Associates. — Anecdotes  of  his  Ca- 
reer.— Corelli’s  Pupil,  Geminiani. — Philidor,  the  Com- 
poser, Violinist,  and  Chess-Player. — Giuseppe  Tartini. 

— Becomes  an  Outcast  from  his  Family  on  Account  of 
his  Love  of  Music. — Anecdote  of  the  Violinist  Vera- 
cini. — Tartini’s  Scientific  Discoveries  in  Music. — His  Ac- 
count of  the  Origin  of  the  “Devil’s  Trill.” — Tartini’s 
Pupils 9 

VTOTTI. 

Viotti,  the  Connecting  Link  between  the  Early  and  Modern 
Violin  Schools. — His  Immense  Superiority  over  his  Con- 
temporaries and  Predecessors. — Other  Violinists  of  his 
Time,  Giornowick  and  Boccherini.  — Viotti’ s Early-  Years. 

— His  Arrival  in  Paris,  and  the  Sensation  he  made. — 

His  Beception  by  the  Court. — Viotti’ s Personal  Pride  and 
Dignity. — His  Eebuke  to  Princely  Impertinence. — The 
Musical  Circles  of  Paris.— Viotti’ s Last  Public  Concert 
in  Paris. — He  suddenly  departs  for  London. — Becomes 
Director  of  the  King’s  Theatre. — Is  compelled  to  leave 
the  Country  as  a Suspected  Revolutionist. — His  Return 
to  England,  and  Metamorphosis  into  a Vintner. — The 


CONTENTS. 


viii 


French  Singer,  Garat,  finds  him  out  in  his  London  Ob- 
scurity.— Anecdote  of  Viotti’s  Dinner  Party. — He  quits 
the  Wine  Trade  for.  his  own  Profession. — Is  made  Direc- 
tor of  the  Paris  Grand  Opera. — Letter  from  Eossini. — 
Viotti’s  Account  of  the  u Eanz  des  Vaches.” — Anecdotes 
of  the  Great  Violinist. — Dies  in  London  in  1824. — Viotti’s 
Place  as  a Violinist,  and  Style  of  Playing. — The  Tourte 
Bow  first  invented  during  his  Time. — An  Indispensable 
Factor  in  Great  Playing  on  the  Violin. — Viotti’s  Pupils, 
and  his  Influence  on  the  Musical  Art  . . . .86 

LUDWIG  SPOHK. 

Birth  and  Early  Life  of  the  Violinist  Spohr. — He  is  pre- 
sented with  his  First  Violin  at  six. — The  French  Emigre 
Dufour  uses  his  Influence  with  Dr.  Spohr,  Sr.,  to  have 
the  Boy  devoted  to  a Musical  Career. — Goes  to  Bruns- 
wick for  fuller  Musical  Instruction. — Spohr  is  appointed 
Kammer-musicus  at  the  Ducal  Court. — He  enters  under 
the  Tuition  of  and  makes  a Tour  with  the  Violin  Vir- 
tuoso Eck. — Incidents  of  the  Bussian  Journey  and  his 
Keturn. — Concert  Tour  in  Germany. — Loses  his  Fine 
Guarnerius  Violin. — Is  appointed  Director  of  the  Orches- 
tra at  Gotha. — He  marries  Dorette  Schiedler,  the  Brilliant 
Harpist. — Spohr’ s Stratagem  to  be  present  at  the  Erfurt 
Musical  Celebration  given  by  Napoleon  in  Honor  of  the 
Allied  Sovereigns. — Becomes  Director  of  Opera  in  Vi- 
enna.— Incidents  of  his  Life  and  Production  of  Various 
Works.— First  Visit  to  England.— He  is  made  Director 
of  the  Cassel  Court  Oratorios. — He  is  retired  with  a Pen- 
sion.—Closing  Years  of  his  Life. — His  Place  as  Composer 
and  Executant 58 

NICOLO  PAGANINI. 

The  Birth  of  the  Greatest  of  Violinists.—  His  Mother’s  Dream. 
—Extraordinary  Character  and  Genius. — Heine’s  Descrip- 
tion of  his  Playing.— Leigh  Hunt  on  Paganini.—  Supersti- 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


tious  Rumors  current  during  his  Life. — He  is  believed  to 
be  a Demoniac. — His  Strange  Appearance. — Early  Train- 
ing and  Surroundings. — Anecdotes  of  his  Youth. — Paga- 
nini’s Youthful  Dissipations. — His  Passion  for  Gambling.  . 

— He  acquires  his  Wonderful  Guarnerius  Violin. — His 
Reform  from  the  Gaming-table. — Indefatigable  Practice 
and  Work  as  a Young  Artist. — Paganini  as  a Preux 
Chevalier . — His  Powerful  Attraction  for  Women. — Epi- 
sode with  a Lady  of  Rank. — Anecdotes  of  his  Early 
Italian  Concertizing. — The  Imbroglio  at  Ferrara. — The 
Frail  Health  of  Paganini. — Wonderful  Success  at  Milan 
where  he  first  plays  One  of  the  Greatest  of  his  Compo- 
sitions, “Le  Streghe.” — Duel  with  Lafont. — Incidents 
and  Anecdotes. — His  First  Visit  to  Germany. — Great 
Enthusiasm  of  his  Audiences. — Experiences  at  Vienna, 
Berlin,  and  other  German  Cities. — Description  of  Paga- 
nini, in  Paris,  by  Castil-Blaze  and  Fetis. — His  English 
Reception  and  the  Impression  made. — Opinions  of  the 
Critics. — Paganini  not  pleased  with  England. — Settles  in 
Paris  for  Two  Years,  and  becomes  the  Great  Musical  Lion. 

— Simplicity  and  Amiability  of  Nature. — Magnificent 
Generosity  to  Hector  Berlioz. — The  Great  Fortune  made 
by  Paganini. — His  Beautiful  Country  Seat  near  Parma. 

— An  Unfortunate  Speculation  in  Paris. — The  Utter  Fail- 
ure of  his  Health. — His  Death  at  Nice. — Characteristics 
and  Anecdotes. — Interesting  Circumstances  of  his  Last 
Moments. — The  Peculiar  Genius  of  Paganini,  and  his 
Influence  on  Art 89 


DE  BfiRIOT. 

De  Beriot’s  High  Place  in  the  Art  of  the  Violin  and  Violin 
Music. — The  Scion  of  an  Impoverished  Noble  Family. — 
Early  Education  and  Musical  Training. — He  seeks  the 
Advice  of  Viotti  in  Paris. — Becomes  a Pupil  of  Robrechts 
and  Baillot  successively. — De  Beriot  finishes  and  per- 
fects his  Style  on  his  Own  Model. — Great  Success  in 
England. — Artistic  Travels  in  Europe. — Becomes  Soloist 


X 


CONTENTS. 


to  the  King  of  the  Netherlands. — He  meets  Malibran, 
the  Great  Cantatrice,  in  Paris. — Peculiar  Circumstances 
which  drew  the  Couple  toward  Each  Other. — They  form 
a Connection  which  only  ends  with  Malibran’ s Life. — 
Sketch  of  Malibran  and  her  Family. — The  Various 
Artistic  Journeys  of  Malibran  and  De  Beriot. — Their 
Marriage  and  Mine,  de  Beriot’s  Death. — De  Beriot  be- 
comes Professor  in  the  Brussels  Conservatoire.  — His 
Later  Life  in  Brussels. — His  Son  Charles  Malibran  de 
Beriot. — The  Character  of  De  Beriot  as  Composer  and 
Player 132 


OLE  BULL. 

The  Birth  and  Early  Life  of  Ole  Bull  at  Bergen,  Norway. — 
His  Family  and  Connections. — Surroundings  of  his  Boy- 
hood.— Early  Display  of  his  Musical  Passion. — Learns 
the  Violin  without  Aid. — Takes  Lessons  from  an  Old 
Musical  Professor,  and  soon  surpasses  his  Master. — An- 
ecdotes of  his  Boyhood. — His  Father’s  Opposition  to 
Music  as  a Profession. — Competes  for  Admittance  to  the 
University  at  Christiania. — Is  consoled  for  Failure  by  a 
Learned  Professor. — “Better  be  a Fiddler  than  a Preach- 
er.”— Becomes  Conductor  of  the  Philharmonic  Society  at 
Bergen. — His  first  Musical  Journey. — Sees  Spohr. — 
Fights  a Duel. — Visit  to  Paris. — He  is  reduced  to  Great 
Pecuniary  Straits. — Strange  Adventure  with  Vidocq,  the 
Great  Detective.— First  Appearance  in  Concert  in  Paris. 
— Eomantic  Adventure  leading  to  Acquaintance. — First 
Appearance  in  Italy.  — Takes  the  Place  of  De  Beriot  by 
Great  Good  Luck.— Ole  Bull  is  most  enthusiastically  re- 
ceived.— Extended  Concert  Tour  in  Italy  and  France. — 
His  Debut  and  Success  in  England.  —One  Hundred  and 
Eighty  Concerts  in  Six  Months. — Ole  Bull’s  Caspar  di 
Salo  Violin,  and  the  Circumstances  under  which  he  ac- 
quired it. — His  Answer  to  the  King  of  Sweden. — First 
Visit  and  Great  Success  in  America  in  1843. — Attempt 
to  establish  a National  Theatre. — The  Norwegian  Colony 


CONTENTS. 


xi 


PAGE 

in  Pennsylvania. — Latter  years  of  Ole  Bull. — His  Per- 
sonal Appearance. — Art  Characteristics  ....  150 


JOACHIM. 

The  Most  Serious  and  Sincere  of  Artists. — The  Hater  of 
Musical  Claptrap. — Famous  while  yet  a Boy. — Life  in 
Berlin. — His  Annual  Visits  to  London. — Essential  Quali- 
ties and  Ideals  as  a Violinist.  — Joachim’s  Composi- 
tions   177 


MUZIO  CLEMENTI. 

The  Genealogy  of  the  Piano-forte. — The  Harpsichord  its 
Immediate  Predecessor. — Supposed  Invention  of  the  Pi- 
ano-forte.— Silbermann  the  First  Maker. — Anecdote  of 
Frederick  the  Great. — The  Piano-forte  only  slowly  makes 
its  Way  as  against  the  Clavichord  and  Harpsichord. — 
Emanuel  Bach,  the  First  Composer  of  Sonatas  for  the 
Piano-forte. — His  Views  of  playing  on  the  New  Instru- 
ment.— Haydn  and  Mozart  as  Players. — Muzio  Clementi, 
the  Earliest  Virtuoso,  strictly  speaking,  as  a Pianist. — 
Born  in  Rome  in  1752. — Scion  of  an  Artistic  Family. — 
First  Musical  Training. — Rapid  Development  of  his  Tal- 
ents.— Composes  Contrapuntal  Works  at  the  Age  of 
Fourteen. — Early  Studies  of  the  Organ  and  Harpsichord. 

— Goes  to  England  to  complete  his  Studies. — Creates  an 
Unequaled  Furore  in  London. — John  Christian  Bach’s 
Opinion  of  Clementi. — dementi’s  Musical  Tour. — His 
Duel  with  Mozart  before  the  Emperor. — Tenor  of  de- 
menti’s Life  in  England. — dementi’s  Pupils. — Trip  to 
St.  Petersburg. — Spohr’s  Anecdote  of  Him. — Mercantile 
and  Manufacturing  Interest  in  the  Piano  as  Partner  of 
Collard. — The  Players  and  Composers  trained  under 
Clementi. — His  Composition. — Status  as  a Player. — Char- 
acter and  Influence  as  an  Artist. — Development  of  the 
Technique  of  the  Piano,  culminating  in  Clementi  . .181 


Xll 


CONTENTS. 


MOSCHELES. 

PAGE 

Clementi  and  Mozart  as  Points  of  Departure  in  Piano-forte 
Playing. — Moscheles  the  most  Brilliant  Climax  reached 
by  the  Viennese  School. — His  Child  Life  at  Prague. — Ex- 
traordinary Precocity. — Goes  to  Vienna  as  the  Pupil  of 
Salieri  and  Albrechtsburger. — Acquaintance  with  Bee- 
thoven.— Moscheles  is  honored  with  a Commission  to 
make  a Piano  Transcription  of  Beethoven’s  “ Fidelio.” — 

His  Intercourse  with  the  Great  Man. — Concert  Tour. — 
Arrival  in  Paris. — The  Artistic  Circle  into  which  he  is 
received. — Pictures  of  Art-Life  in  Paris. — London  and 
its  Musical  Celebrities. — Career  as  a Wandering  Virtuoso. 

— Felix  Mendelssohn  becomes  his  Pupil. — The  Mendel- 
ssohn Family. — Moscheles’s  Marriage  to  a Hamburg 
Lady. — Settles  in  London. — His  Life  as  Teacher,  Player, 
and  Composer. — Eminent  Place  taken  by  Moscheles 
among  the  Musicians  of  his  Age. — His  Efforts  soothe 
the  Sufferings  of  Beethoven’s  Death -bed. — Friendship 
for  Mendelssohn. — Moscheles  becomes  connected  with 
the  Leipzig  Conservatorium.  — Death  in  1870.  — Mo- 
scheles as  Pianist  and  Composer. — Sympathy  with  the 
Old  as  against  the  New  School  of  the  Piano. — His  Pow- 
erful Influence  on  the  Musical  Culture  and  Tendencies 
of  his  Age 200 

THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 

Robert  Schumann’s  Place  as  a National  Composer— Pe- 
culiar Greatness  as  a Piano-forte  Composer. — Born  at 
Zwickau  in  1810. — His  Father’s  Aversion  to  his  Musical 
Studies.— Becomes  a Student  of  Jurisprudence  in  Leip- 
zig.— Makes  the  Acquaintance  of  Clara  Wieck. — Tedium 
of  his  Law  Studies.— Vacation  Tour  to  Italy.— Death  of 
hisEather,  and  Consent  of  his  Mother  to  Schumann  adopt- 
ing the  Profession  of  Music.— Becomes  Wieck’s  Pupil. 

— Injury  to  his  Hand  which  prevents  all  Possibilities  of 
his  becoming  a Great  Performer. — Devotes  himself  to 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Composition. — The  Child,  Clara  Wieck. — Remarkable 
Genius  as  a Player. — Her  Early  Training. — Paganini’s 
Delight  in  her  Genius. — Clara  Wieck’s  Concert  Tours. — 
Schumann  falls  deeply  in  Love  with  her,  and  Wieck’s 
Opposition. — His  Allusions  to  Clara  in  the  “ Neue  Zeit- 
schrift.” — Schumann  at  Vienna. — His  Compositions  at 
first  Unpopular,  though  played  by  Clara  Wieck  and 
Liszt. — Schumann’s  Labors  as  a Critic.— He  marries  Clara 
in  1840. — His  Song  Period  inspired  by  his  Wife. — Tour 
to  Russia,  and  Brilliant  Reception  given  to  the  Artist 
Pair. — The  “ Neue  Zeitschrift  ” and  its  Mission. — The 
Davidsbund. — Peculiar  Style  of  Schumann’s  Writing. 

— He  moves  to  Dresden. — Active  Production  in  Orches- 
tral Composition. — Artistic  Tour  in  Holland. — He  is 
seized  with  Brain  Disease. — Characteristics  as  a Man,  as 
an  Artist,  and  as  a Philosopher. — Mme.  Schumann  as 
her  Husband’s  Interpreter. — Chopin  a Colaborer  with 
Schumann. — Schumann  on  Chopin  again. — Chopin’s  Na- 
tivity.— Exclusively  a Piano-forte  Composer. — His  Genre 
as  Pianist  and  Composer. — Aversion  to  Concert-giving. 

— Parisian  Associations. — New  Style  of  Technique  de- 
manded by  his  Works. — Unique  Treatment  of  the  Instru- 
ment.— Characteristics  of  Chopin’s  Compositions.  . . 220 

THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 

Thalberg  one  of  the  Greatest  of  Executants. — Rather  a Man  of 
Remarkable  Talents  than  of  Genius. — Moscheles’s  De- 
scription of  him. — The  Illegitimate  Son  of  an  Austrian 
Prince. — Early  Introduction  to  Musical  Society  in  Lon- 
don and  Vienna. — Beginning  of  his  Career  as  a Virtu- 
oso.— The  Brilliancy  of  his  Career. — Is  appointed  Court 
Pianist  to  the  Emperor  of  Austria. — His  Marriage. — 
Visits  to  America. — Thalberg’s  Artistic  Idiosyncrasy. — 
Robert  Schumann  on  his  Playing. — His  Appearance 
and  Manner.— Characterization  by  George  William  Cur- 
tis.— Thalberg’s  Style  and  Worth  as  an  Artist. — His 
Piano-forte  Method,  and  Place  as  a Composer  for  the 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


Piano. — Gottschalk’s  Birth  and  Early  Years— He  is 
sent  to  Paris  for  Instruction. — Successful  Debut  and 
Public  Concerts  in  Paris  and  Tour  through  the  French 
Cities. — Friendship  with  Berlioz. — Concert  Tour  to  Spain. 

— Bomantic  Experiences. — Berlioz  on  Gottschalk.— Be- 
ception  of  Gottschalk  in  America. — Criticism  of  his 
Style. — Bemarkable  Success  of  his  Concerts. — His  Visit 
to  the  West  Indies,  Mexico,  and  Central  America. — 
Protracted  Absence. — Gottschalk  on  Life  in  the  Trop- 
ics.— Beturn  to  the  United  States. — Three  Brilliant  Mu- 
sical Years. — Departure  for  South  America. — Trium- 
phant Procession  through  the  Spanish-American  Cities. 

— Death  at  Bio  Janeiro. — Notes  on  Gottschalk  as  Man 
and  Artist 253 


FRANZ  LISZT. 

The  Spoiled  Favorite  of  Fortune. — His  Inherited  Genius. — 
Birth  and  Early  Training. — First  Appearance  in  Con- 
cert.— Adam  Liszt  and  his  Son  in  Paris. — Sensation 
made  by  the  Boy’s  Playing. — His  Morbid  Beligious  Suf- 
ferings.— Franz  Liszt  thrown  on  his  own  Besources. — 
The  Artistic  Circle  in  Paris. — Liszt  in  the  Banks  of  Bo- 
manticism. — His  Friends  and  Associates. — Mme.  D’A- 
goult  and  her  Connection  with  Franz  Liszt. — He  retires 
to  Geneva. — Is  recalled  to  Paris  by  the  Thalberg  Furore. 
— Bivalry  between  the  Artists  and  their  Factions. — 
He  commences  his  Career  as  Traveling  Virtuoso. — The 
Blaze  of  Enthusiasm  throughout  Europe. — Schumann 
on  Liszt  as  Man  and  Artist. — He  ranks  the  Hungarian 
Virtuoso  as  the  Superior  of  Thalberg. — Liszt’s  Generosity 
to  his  own  Countrymen. — The  Honors  paid  to  him  in 
Pesth. — Incidents  of  his  Musical  Wanderings. — He  loses 
the  Proceeds  of  Three  Hundred  Concerts. — Contributes 
to  the  Completion  of  the  Cologne  Cathedral. — His  Con- 
nection with  the  Beethoven  Statue  at  Bonn,  and  the 
Celebration  of  the  Unveiling. — Chorley  on  Liszt. — Ber- 
lioz and  Liszt. — Character  of  the  Enthusiasm  called  out 


CONTENTS. 


XV 


by  Liszt  as  an  Artist. — Remarkable  Personality  as  a 
Man. — Berlioz  characterizes  the  Great  Virtuoso  in  a Let- 
ter.— Liszt  ceases  his  Life  as  a Virtuoso,  and  becomes 
Chapel-Master  and  Court  Conductor  at  Weimar. — 
Avowed  Belief  in  the  New  School  of  Music,  and  Pro-  i 
duction  of  Works  of  this  School. — Wagner’s  Testimony 
to  Liszt’s  Assistance. — Liszt’s  Resignation  of  his  Wei- 
mar Post  after  Ten  Years. — His  Subsequent  Life. — He 
takes  Holy  Orders. — Liszt  as  a Virtuoso  and  Composer. — 
Entitled  to  be  placed  among  the  most  Remarkable  Men 
of  his  Age 291 


RUBINSTEIN. 

The  Striking  Personality  of  the  Man. — His  Early  Training. 

— Self  - support  and  Independence.  — Court  Pianist. — 
Founding  of  the  Great  Russian  Conservatory.  — The 
American  Tour. — The  Rival  of  Liszt. — Characteristics 
as  a Player. — Estimate  of  Rubinstein  as  a Composer  . 331 

BULOW. 

A King  of  Interpreters.  — His  Peculiar  Equipment  as  a 
Player. — Bred  to  the  Law,  he  becomes  a Pianist. — As- 
sociation with  Liszt  and  Wagner. — Enthusiastic  Propa- 
ganda of  the  Music  of  the  Future. — Btilow  in  the  United 
States. — Individual  Traits. — His  Style  and  Theory  of 
the  Art  of  Playing 342 


PADEREWSKI. 

Transcendent  Success  of  the  Polish  Artist.  — Fame  won 
through  his  American  Laurels. — Early  Education. — His 
Attempts  in  Composition. — Secret  of  his  Fascination  as 
Player. — The  Most  Genial  and  Sympathetic  of  Execu- 
tants   348 


PORTRAITS 


FACING 

PAGE 


Franz  Liszt  .... 

Frontispiece 

Nicolo  Paganini. 

. 89 

Ole  Bull  .... 

150 

Anton  Gregorievitch  Rubinstein 

. 331 

Ignace  Jan  Paderewski 

348 

2 


. n fc. 

UNIVERSITY  of  ILLINOIS. 


THE 

GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS. 

The  Ancestry  of  the  Violin. — The  Origin  of  the  Cremona  School 
of  Violin-Making. — The  Amatis  and  Stradiuarii. — Extraor- 
dinary Art  Activity  of  Italy  at  this  Period. — Antonius  Stra- 
diuarius  and  Joseph  Guarnerius. — Something  about  the  Lives 
of  the  Two  Greatest  Violin-Makers  of  the  World. — Corelli,  the 
First  Great  Violinist. — His  Contemporaries  and  Associates. — 
Anecdotes  of  his  Career. — Corelli’s  Pupil,  Geminiani. — Phili- 
dor,  the  Composer,  Violinist,  and  Chess-Player. — Giuseppe 
Tartini. — Becomes  an  Outcast  from  his  Family  on  Account  of 
his  Love  of  Music. — Anecdote  of  the  Violinist  Veracini. — 
Tartini’s  Scientific  Discoveries  in  Music. — His  Account  of  the 
Origin  of  the  “Devil’s  Trill.” — Tartini’s  Pupils. 

I. 

The  ancestry  of  the  violin,  considering  this 
as  the  type  of  stringed  instruments  played  with 
a bow,  goes  back  to  the  earliest  antiquity ; and 
innumerable  passages  might  be  quoted  from 
the  Oriental  and  classical  writers  illustrating  the 
important  part  taken  by  the  forefathers  of 


10  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

the  modern  violin  in  feast,  festival,  and  religions 
ceremonial,  in  the  fiery  delights  of  battle,  and 
the  more  dulcet  enjoyments  of  peace.  But  it 
was  not  till  the  fifteenth  century,  in  Italy,  that 
the  art  of  making  instruments  of  the  viol  class 
began  to  reach  toward  that  high  perfection  which 
it  speedily  attained.  The  long  list  of  honored 
names  connected  with  the  development  of  art  in 
the  fifteenth,  sixteenth,  and  seventeenth  centu- 
ries is  a mighty  roll-call,  and  among  these  the 
names  of  the  great  violin-makers,  beginning  with 
Gaspard  de  Salo,  of  Brescia,  who  first  raised  a 
rude  craft  to  an  art,  are  worthy  of  being  included. 
From  Brescia  came  the  masters  who  established 
the  Cremona  school,  a name  not  only  immortal 
in  the  history  of  music,  but  full  of  vital  signifi- 
cance ; for  it  was  not  till  the  violin  was  perfected, 
and  a distinct  school  of  violin-playing  founded, 
that  the  creation  of  the  symphony,  the  highest 
form  of  music,  became  possible. 

The  violin-makers  of  Cremona  came,  as  we 
have  said,  from  Brescia,  beginning  with  the  Ama- 
tis.  Though  it  does  not  lie  within  the  province 
of  this  work  to  discuss  in  any  special  or  techni- 
cal sense  the  history  of  violin-making,  something 
concerning  the  greatest  of  the  Cremona  masters 
will  be  found  both  interesting  and  valuable  as 
preliminary  to  the  sketches  of  the  great  players 
which  make  up  the  substance  of  the  volume. 

The  Amatis,  who  established  the  violin-mak- 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  H 

\ 

in g art  at  Cremona,  successively  improved,  each 
member  of  the  class  stealing  a march  on  his  pred- 
ecessor, until  the  peerless  masters  of  the  art, 
Antonius  Stradiuarius  and  Joseph  Guarnerius  del 
Jesu,  advanced  far  beyond  the  rivalry  of  their 
contemporaries  and  successors.  The  pupils  of  the 
Amatis,  Stradiuarius,  and  Guarnerius  settled  in 
Milan,  Florence,  and  other  cities,  which  also  be- 
came centers  of  violin-making,  but  never  to  an 
extent  which  lessened  the  preeminence  of  the 
great  Cremona  makers.  There  was  one  signifi- 
cant peculiarity  of  all  the  leading  artists  of  this 
violin-making  epoch  : each  one  as  a pupil  never 
contented  himself  with  making  copies  of  his  mas- 
ter’s work,  but  strove  incessantly  to  strike  out 
something  in  his  work  which  should  be  an  out- 
come of  his  own  genius,  knowledge,  and  investi- 
gation. It  was  essentially  a creative  age. 

Let  us  glance  briefly  at  the  artistic  activity 
of  the  times  when  the  violin-making  craft  leaped 
so  swiftly  and  surely  to  perfection.  If  we  turn 
to  the  days  of  Gaspard  di  Salo,  Morelli,  Magini, 
and  the  Amatis,  we  find  that  when  they  were 
sending  forth  their  fiddles,  Raphael,  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  Titian,  and  Tintoretto  were  busily  painting 
their  great  canvases.  While  Antonius  Stradi- 
uarius and  Joseph  Guarnerius  were  occupied  with 
the  noble  instruments  which  have  immortalized 
their  names,  Canaletto  was  painting  his  Vene- 
tian squares  and  canals,  Giorgio  was  superintend- 


12  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

ing  the  manufacture  of  his  inimitable  maiolica, 
and  the  Venetians  were  blowing  glass  of  marvel- 
ous beauty  and  form.  In  the  musical  world, 
Corelli  was  writing  his  gigues  and  sarabandes, 
Geminiani  composing  his  first  instruction  book 
for  the  violin,  and  Tartini  dreaming  out  his 
“Devil’s  Trill”;  and  while  Guadognini  (a  pu- 
pil of  Antonius  Stradiuarius),  with  the  stars  of 
lesser  magnitude,  were  exercising  their  calling, 
Viotti,  the  originator  of  the  school  of  modern 
violin-playing,  was  beginning  to  write  his  con- 
certos, and  Boccherini  laying  the  foundation  of 
chamber  music. 

Such  was  the  flourishing  state  of  Italian  art 
during  the  great  Cremona  period,  which  opened 
up  a mine  of  artistic  wealth  for  succeeding  gener- 
ations. It  is  a curious  fact  that  not  only  the 
violin  but  violin  music  was  the  creature  of  the 
most  luxurious  period  of  art ; for,  in  that  golden 
age  of  the  creative  imagination,  musicians  con- 
temporary with  the  great  violin-makers  were  writ- 
ing music  destined  to  be  better  understood  and 
appreciated  when  the  violins  then  made  should 
have  reached  their  maturity. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  conditions 
were  all  highly  favorable  to  the  manufacture  of 
great  instruments.  There  were  many  composers 
of  genius  and  numerous  orchestras  scattered  over 
Italy,  Germany,  and  France,  and  there  must  have 
been  a demand  for  bow  instruments  of  a high 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  13 


order.  In  the  sixteenth  century,  Palestrina  and 
Zarlino  were  writing  grand  church  music,  in 
which  violins  bore  an  important  part.  In  the 
seventeenth,  lived  Stradella,  Lotti,  Buononcini, 
Lulli,  and  Corelli.  In  the  eighteenth,  when  vio- 
lin-making was  at  its  zenith,  there  were  such 
names  among  the  Italians  as  Scarlatti,  Geminiani, 
Vivaldi,  Locatelli,  Boccherini,  Tartini,  Piccini, 
Viotti,  and  Nardini ; while  in  France  it  was  the 
epoch  of  Lecler  and  Gravinies,  composers  of  vio- 
lin music  of  the  highest  class.  Under  the  stimu- 
lus of  such  a general  art  cultus  the  makers  of  the 
violin  must  have  enjoyed  large  patronage,  and 
the  more  eminent  artists  have  received,  highly 
remunerative  prices  for  their  labors,  and,  correla- 
tive to  this  practical  success,  a powerful  stimulus 
toward  perfecting  the  design  and  workmanship 
of  their  instruments.  These  plain  artisans  lived 
quiet  and  simple  lives,  but  they  bent  their  whole 
souls  to  the  work,  and  belonged  to  the  class  of 
minds  of  which  Carlyle  speaks  : “ In  a word,  they 
willed  one  thing  to  which  all  other  things  were 
made  subordinate  and  subservient,  and  therefore 
they  accomplished  it.  The  wedge  will  rend  rocks, 
but  its  edge  must  be  sharp  and  single ; if  it  be 
double,  the  wedge  is  bruised  in  pieces  and  will 
rend  nothing.” 

II. 

So  much  said  concerning  the  general  condi- 
tions under  which  the  craft  of  violin-making 


14  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


reached  such  splendid  excellence,  the  attention 
of  the  reader  is  invited  to  the  greatest  masters  of 
the  Cremona  school. 

u The  instrument  on  which  he  played 
Was  in  Cremona’s  workshops  made, 

By  a great  master  of  the  past, 

Ere  yet  was  lost  the  art  divine ; 

Fashioned  of  maple  and  of  pine, 

That  in  Tyrolean  forests  vast 

Had  rocked  and  wrestled  with  the  blast. 

u Exquisite  was  it  in  design, 

A marvel  of  the  lutist’s  art, 

Perfect  in  each  minutest  part ; 

And  in  its  hollow  chamber  thus 
The  maker  from  whose  hand  it  came 
Had  written  his  unrivaled  name, 

4 Antonius  Stradivarius.’  ” 

The  great  artist  whose  work  is  thus  made  the 
subject  of  Longfellow’s  verse  was  born  at  Cre- 
mona in  1644. 

His  renown  is  beyond  that  of  all  others,  and 
hi3  praise  has  been  sounded  by  poet,  artist,  and 
musician.  He  has  received  the  homage  of  two 
centuries,  and  his  name  is  as  little  likely  to  be  de- 
throned from  its  special  place  as  that  of  Shake- 
speare or  Homer.  Though  many  interesting  par- 
ticulars are  known  concerning  his  life,  all  attempt 
has  failed  to  obtain  any  connected  record  of  the 
principal  events  of  his  career.  Perhaps  there  is 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  15 


no  need,  for  there  is  ample  reason  to  believe  that 
Antonius  Stradiuarius  lived  a quiet,  uncheckered, 
monotonous  existence,  absorbed  in  his  labor  of 
making  violins,  and  caring  for  nothing  in  the 
outside  world  which  did  not  touch  his  all-beloved 
art.  Without  haste  and  without  rest,  he  labored 
for  the  perfection  of  the  violin.  To  him  the 
world  was  a mere  workshop.  The  fierce  Italian 
sun  beat  down  and  made  Cremona  like  an  oven, 
but  it  was  good  to  dry  the  wood  for  violins. 
On  the  slopes  of  the  hills  grew  grand  forests  of 
maple,  pine,  and  willow,  but  he  cared  nothing  for 
forest  or  hillside  except  as  they  grew  good  wood 
for  violins.  The  vineyards  yielded  rich  wine,  but, 
after  all,  the  main  use  of  the  grape  was  that  it  fur- 
nished the  spirit  wherewith  to  compound  varnish. 
The  sheep,  ox,  and  horse  were  good  for  food,  but 
still  more  important  because  from  them  came 
the  hair  of  the  bow,  the  violin  strings,  and  the 
glue  which  held  the  pieces  together.  It  was 
through  this  single-eyed  devotion  to  his  life-work 
that  one  great  maker  was  enabled  to  gather  up  all 
the  perfections  of  his  predecessors,  and  stand  out 
for  all  time  as  the  flower  of  the  Cremonese  school 
and  the  master  of  the  world.  George  Eliot,  in 
her  poem,  “The  Stradivari,”  probably  pictures 
his  life  accurately  : 

“That  plain  white-aproned  man,  who  stood  at  work, 
Patient  and  accurate  full  fourscore  years, 

Cherished  his  sight  and  touch  by  temperance ; 


16  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

And  since  keen  sense  is  love  of  perfectness, 

Made  perfect  violins,  the  needed  paths 

For  inspiration  and  high  mastery.” 

M.  Fetis,  in  his  notice  of  the  greatest  of  violin- 
makers,  summarizes  his  life  very  briefly.  He  tells 
us  the  life  of  Antonius  Stradiuarius  was  as  tran- 
quil as  hi£  calling  was  peaceful.  The  year  1702 
alone  must  have  caused  him  some  disquiet,  when 
during  the  war  the  city  of  Cremona  was  taken  by 
Marshal  Villeroy,  on  the  Imperialist  side,  retaken 
by  Prince  Eugene,  and  finally  taken  a third  time 
by  the  French.  That  must  have  been  a parlous 
time  for  the  master  of  that  wonderful  workshop 
whence  proceeded  the  world’s  masterpieces,  though 
we  may  almost  fancy  the  absorbed  master,  like 
Archimedes  when  the  Romans  took  Syracuse,  so 
intent  on  his  labor  that  he  hardly  heard  the  din 
and  roar  of  battle,  till  some  rude  soldier  disturbed 
the  serene  atmosphere  of  the  room  littered  with 
shavings  and  strewn  with  the  tools  of  a peace- 
ful craft. 

Polledro,  not  many  years  ago  first  violin  at 
the  Chapel  Royal  of  Turin,  who  died  at  a very 
advanced  age,  declared  that  his  master  had  known 
Stradiuarius,  and  that  he  was  fond  of  talking 
about  him.  He  was,  he  said,  tall  and  thin,  with 
a bald  head  fringed  with  silvery  hair,  covered  with 
a cap  of  white  wool  in  the  winter  and  of  cotton 
in  the  summer.  He  wore  over  his  clothes  an 
apron  of  white  leather  when  he  worked,  and,  as 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  17 


he  was  always  working,  his  costume  never  varied. 
He  had  acquired  what  was  regarded  as  wealth  in 
those  days,  for  the  people  of  Cremona  were  accus- 
tomed to  say  “As  rich  as  Stradiuarius.”  The 
house  he  occupied  is  still  standing  in  the  Piazza 
Roma,  and  is  probably  the  principal  place  of  in- 
terest in  the  old  city  to  the  tourists-  who  drift 
thitherward.  The  simple-minded  Cremonese  have 
scarcely  a conception  to-day  of  the  veneration 
with  which  their  ancient  townsman  is  regarded 
by  the  musical  connoisseurs  of  the  world.  It  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  they  were  per- 
suaded a few  years  ago,  by  the  efforts  of  Italian 
and  French  musicians,  to  name  one  street  Stradi- 
uarius, and  another  Amati.  Nicholas  Amati,  the 
greatest  maker  of  his  family,  was  the  instructor 
of  Antonius  Stradiuarius,  and  during  the  early 
period  of  the  latter  artist  the  instruments  could 
hardly  be  distinguished  from  those  of  Amati. 
But,  in  after-years,  he  struck  out  boldly  in  an  ori- 
ginal line  of  his  own,  and  made  violins  which, 
without  losing  the  exquisite  sweetness  of  the 
Amati  instruments,  possessed  far  more  robustness 
and  volume  of  tone,  reaching,  indeed,  a combina- 
tion of  excellences  which  have  placed  his  name 
high  above  all  others.  It  may  be  remarked  of  all 
the  Cremona  violins  of  the  best  period,  whether 
Amati,  Stradiuarius,  Guarnerius,  or  Steiner,  that 
they  are  marked  no  less  by  their  perfect  beauty 
and  delicacy  of  workmanship  than  by  their  charm 


18  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


of  tone.  These  zealous  artisans  were  not  con- 
tent to  imprison  the  soul  of  Ariel  in  other  form 
than  the  lines-  and  curves  of  ideal  grace,  exqui- 
sitely marked  woods,  and  varnish  as  of  liquid 
gold.  This  external  beauty  is  uniformly  charac- 
teristic of  the  Cremona  violins,  though  shape 
varies  in  some  degree  with  each  maker.  Of  the 
Stradiuarius  violins  it  may  be  said,  before  quitting 
the  consideration  of  this  maker,  that  they  have 
fetched  in  latter  years  from  one  thousand  to  five 
thousand  dollars.  The  sons  and  grandsons  of 
Antonius  were  also  violin-makers  of  high  repute, 
though  inferior  to  the  chief  of  the  family. 

The  name  of  Joseph  Guarnerius  del  Jesh  is 
only  less  in  estimation  than  that  of  Antonius 
Stradiuarius,  of  whom  it  is  believed  by  many  he 
was  a pupil  or  apprentice,  though  of  this  there  is 
no  proof.  Both  his  uncle  Andreas  and  his  cousin 
Joseph  were  distinguished  violin-makers,  but  the 
Guarnerius  patronymic  has  now  its  chiefest  glory 
from  that  member  known  as  “ del  Jesh.”  This 
great  artist  in  fiddle-making  was  born  at  Cremona 
in  the  year  1683,  and  died  in  1745.  He  worked  in 
his  native  place  till  the  day  of  his  death,  but  in 
his  latter  years  Joseph  del  Jesh  became  dissipated, 
and  his  instruments  fell  off  somewhat  in  excel- 
lence of  quality  and  workmanship.  But  his  chef 
d’ oeuvres  yield  only  to  those  of  the  great  Stradi- 
uarius in  the  estimation  of  connoisseurs.  Many 
of  the  Guarnerius  violins,  it  is  said,  were  made  in 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  19 


prison,  where  the  artist  was  confined  for  debt, 
with  inferior  tools  and  material  surreptitiously 
obtained  for  him  by  the  jailer’s  daughter,  who 
was  in  love  with  the  handsome  captive.  These 
fruits  of  his  skill  were  less  beautiful  in  workman- 
ship, though  marked  by  wonderful  sweetness  and 
power  of  tone.  Mr.  Charles  Reade,  a great  violin 
amateur  as  well  as  a novelist,  says  of  these  “pris- 
on ’’fiddles,  referring  to  the  comical  grotesque- 
ness of  their  form  : “ Such  is  the  force  of  genius, 
that  I believe  in  our  secret  hearts  we  love  these 
impudent  fiddles  best,  they  are  so  full  of  chic” 
Paganini’s  favorite  was  a Guarnerius  del  Jesu, 
though  he  had  no  less  than  seven  instruments  of 
the  greatest  Cremona  masters.  Spohr,  the  cele- 
brated violinist  and  composer,  offered  to  exchange 
his  Strad,  one  of  the  finest  in  the  world,  for  a 
Guarnerius,  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Mawkes,  an 
English  musician. 

Carlo  Bergonzi,  the  pupil  of  Antoni  us  Stradi- 
uarius,  was  another  of  the  great  Cremona  makers, 
and  his  best  violins  have  commanded  extraor- 
dinary prices.  He  followed  the  model  of  his  mas- 
ter closely,  and  some  of  his  instruments  can 
hardly  be  distinguished  in  workmanship  and  tone 
from  genuine  Strads.  Something  might  be  said, 
too,  of  Jacob  Steiner,  who,  though  a German 
(born  about  1620),  got  the  inspiration  for  his  in- 
struments of  the  best  period  so  directly  from  Cre- 
mona that  he  ought  perhaps  to  be  classified  with 


20  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


the  violin-makers  of  this  school.  His  famous 
violins,  known  as  the  Elector  Steiners,  were  made 
under  peculiar  circumstances.  Almost  heart- 
broken by  the  death  of  his  wife,  he  retired  to  a 
Benedictine  monastery  with  the  purpose  of  taking 
holy  orders.  But  the  art-passion  of  his  life  was 
too  strong,  and  he  made  in  his  cloister-prison 
twelve  instruments,  on  which  he  lavished  the 
most  jealous  care  and  attention.  These  were 
presented  to  the  twelve  Electors  of  Germany,  and 
their  extraordinary  merit  has  caused  them  to  rank 
high  among  the  great  violins  of  the  world.  A 
volume  might  be  easily  compiled  of  anecdotes 
concerning  violins  and  violin-makers.  The  vicis- 
situdes and  changes  of  ownership  through  which 
many  celebrated  instruments  have  passed  are  full 
of  romantic  interest.  Each  instrument  of  the 
greatest  makers  has  a pedigree,  as  well  authen- 
ticated as  those  of  the  great  masterpieces  of  paint- 
ing, though  there  have  been  instances  where  a 
Strad  or  a Guarnerius  has  been  picked  up  by  some 
strange  accident  for  a mere  trifle  at  an  auction. 
There  have  been  many  imitations  of  the  genuine 
Cremonas  palmed  off,  too,  on  the  unwary  at  a 
high  price,  but  the  connoisseur  rarely  fails  to 
identify  the  great  violins  almost  instantly.  For, 
aside  from  their  magical  beauty  of  tone,  they  are 
made  with  the  greatest  beauty  of  form,  color,  and 
general  detail.  So  much  has  been  said  concerning 
the  greatest  violin-makers,  in  view  of  the  fact 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  21 

that  coincident  with  the  growth  of  a great  school 
of  art-manufacture  in  violins  there  also  sprang 
up  a grand  school  of  violin-playing  ; for,  indeed, 
the  one  could  hardly  have  existed  without  the 
other. 

III. 

The  first  great  performer  on  the  violin  whose 
career  had  any  special  significance,  in  its  connec- 
tion with  the  modern  world  of  musical  art,  was 
Archangelo  Corelli,  who  was  born  at  Fusignano, 
in  the  territory  of  Bologna,  in  the  year  1653.  Co- 
relli’s compositions  are  recognized  to-day  as  types 
of  musical  purity  and  freshness,  and  the  great 
number  of  distinguished  pupils  who  graduated 
from  his  teaching  relate  him  closely  with  all  the 
distinguished  violinists  even  down  to  the  present 
day.  In  Corelli’s  younger  days  the  church  had  a 
stronger  claim  on  musicians  than  the  theatre  or 
concert-room.  So  we  find  him  getting  his  earli- 
est instruction  from  the  Capuchin  Simonelli,  who 
devoted  himself  to  the  ecclesiastical  style.  The 
pupil,  however,  yielded  to  an  irresistible  instinct, 
and  soon  put  himself  under  the  care  of  a clever 
and  skillful  teacher,  the  well-known  Bassani. 
Under  this  tuition  the  young  musician  made 
rapid  advancement,  for  he  labored  incessantly  in 
the  practice  of  his  instrument.  At  the  age  of 
twenty  Corelli  followed  that  natural  bent  which 
carried  him  to  Paris,  then,  as  now,  a great  art 
capital ; and  we  are  told,  on  the  authority  of  Fetis, 


22  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


that  the  composer  Lulli  became  so  jealous  of  his 
extraordinary  skill  that  he  obtained  a royal  man- 
date ordering  Corelli  to  quit  Paris,  on  pain  of  the 
Bastille. 

In  1680  he  paid  a visit  to  Germany,  and  was 
specially  well  received,  and  was  so  universally  ad- 
mired, that  he  with  difficulty  escaped  the  impor- 
tunate invitations  to  settle  at  various  courts  as 
chief  musician.  After  a three  years’  absence 
from  his  native  land  he  returned  and  published 
his  first  sonatas.  The  result  of  his  assiduous  la- 
bor was  that  his  fame  as  a violinist  had  spread  all 
over  Europe,  and  pupils  came  from  distant  lands 
to  profit  by  his  instruction.  We  are  told  of  his 
style  as  a solo  player  that  it  was  learned  and  ele- 
gant, the  tone  firm  and  even,  that  his  playing  was 
frequently  impressed  with  feeling,  but  that  during 
performance  “his  countenance  was  distorted,  his 
eyes  red  as  fire,  and  his  eyeballs  rolled  as  if  he 
were  in  agony.”  For  about  eighteen  years  Co- 
relli was  domiciled  at  Rome,  under  the  patronage 
of  Cardinal  Ottoboni.  As  leader  of  the  orchestra 
at  the  opera,  he  introduced  many  reforms,  among 
them  that  of  perfect  uniformity  of  bowing.  By 
the  violin  sonatas  composed  during  this  period,  it 

is  claimed  that  Corelli  laid  the  foundation  for  the 

' • 

art  of  violin-playing,  though  it  is  probable  that 
he  profited  largely  by  those  that  went  before  him. 

It  was  at  the  house  of  Cardinal  Ottoboni  that 
Corelli  met  Handel,  when  the  violent  temper  of 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  23 


tlie  latter  did  not  hesitate  to  show  itself.  Corelli 
was  playing  a sonata,  when  the  imperious  young 
German  snatched  the  violin  from  his  hand,  to 
show  the  greatest  virtuoso  of  the  age  how  to  play 
the  music.  Corelli,  though  very  amiable  in  tem- 
per, knew  how  to  make  himself  respected.  At 
one  of  the  private  concerts  at  Cardinal  Ottoboni’s, 
he  observed  his  host  and  others  talking  during 
his  playing.  He  laid  his  violin  down  and  joined 
the  audience,  saying  he  feared  his  music  might 
interrupt  the  conversation. 

In  1708,  according  to  Dubourg,  Corelli  ac- 
cepted a royal  invitation  from  Naples,  and  took 
with  him  his  second  violin,  Matteo,  and  a violon- 
cellist, in  case  he  should  not  be  well  accompanied 
by  the  Neapolitan  orchestra.  He  had  no  sooner 
arrived  than  he  was  asked  to  play  some  of  his 
concertos  before  the  king.  This  he  refused,  as 
the  whole  of  his  orchestra  was  *not  with  him,  and 
there  was  no  time  for  a rehearsal.  However,  he 
soon  found  that  the  Neapolitan  musicians  played 
the  orchestral  parts  of  his  concertos  as  well  as  his 
own  accompanists  did  after  some  practice  ; for, 
having  at  length  consented  to  play  the  first  of  his 
concertos  before  the  court,  the  accompaniment 
was  so  good  that  Corelli  is  said  to  have  exclaimed 
to  Matteo:  “ Si  suonct  a Napoli !” — “They  do 
play  at  Naples  ! ” This  performance  being  quite 
successful,  he  was  presented  to  the  king,  who  af- 
terward requested  him  to  perform  one  of  his  sona- 


24  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


tas  ; but  his  Majesty  found  the  adagio  “so  long 
and  so  dry  that  he  got  up  and  left  the  room  (!),  to 
the  great  mortification  of  the  eminent  virtuoso.” 
As  the  king  had  commanded  the  piece,  the  least 
he  could  have  done  would  have  been  to  have  wait- 
ed till  it  was  finished.  “If  they  play  at  Naples, 
they  are  not  very  polite  there,”  poor  Corelli  must 
have  thought ! Another  unfortunate  mishap  also 
occurred  to  him  there,  if  we  are  to  believe  the 
dictum  of  Geminiani,  one  of  Corelli’s  pupils,  who 
had  preceded  him  at  Naples.  It  would  appear 
that  he  was  appointed  to  lead  a composition  of 
Scarlatti’s,  and  on  arriving  at  an  air  in  C minor 
he  led  off  in  C major,  which  mistake  he  twice  re- 
peated, till  Scarlatti  came  on  the  stage  and  showed 
him  the  difference.  This  anecdote,  however,  is. 
so  intrinsically  improbable  that  it  must  be  taken 
with  several  “grains  of  salt.”  In  1712  Corelli’s 
concertos  were  beautifully  engraved  at  Amster- 
dam, but  the  composer  only  survived  the  publi- 
cation a few  weeks.  A beautiful  statue,  bearing 
the  inscription  “ Corelli  princeps  musicorum”  was 
erected  to  his  memory,  adjacent  that  honoring 
the  memory  of  Raffaelle  in  the  Pantheon.  He 
accumulated  a considerable  fortune,  and  left  a 
valuable  collection  of  pictures.  The  solos  of  Co- 
relli have  been  adopted  as  valuable  studies  by  the 
most  eminent  modern  players  and  teachers. 

Francesco  Geminiani  was  the  most  remarkable 
of  Corelli’s  pupils.  Born  at  Lucca  in  1C80,  he 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  25 


finished  his  studies  under  Corelli  at  Rome,  and 
spent  several  years  with  great  musical  eclat  at 
Naples.  In  1714  he  went  to  England,  in  which 
country  he  spent  many  years.  His  execution  was 
of  great  excellence,  but  his  compositions  only 
achieved  temporary  favor.  His  life  is  said  to 
have  been  full  of  romance  and  incident.  Gemi- 
niani’s  connection  with  Handel  has  a special  mu- 
sical interest.  The  king,  who  arrived  in  England 
in  September,  1714,  and  was  crowned  at  West- 
minster a month  iater,  was  irritated  with  Handel 
for  having  left  Germany,  where  he  held  the  posi- 
tion of  chapel-master  to  George,  when  Elector  of 
Brunswick,  and  still  more  so  by  his  having  com- 
posed a Te  Deum  on  the  Peace  of  Utrecht,  which 
was  not  favorably  regarded  by  the  Protestant 
princes  of  Germany.  Baron  Kilmanseck,  a Han- 
overian, and  a great  admirer  of  Handel,  under- 
took to  bring  them  together  again.  Being  in- 
formed that  the  king  intended  to  picnic  on  the 
Thames,  he  requested  the  composer  to  write  some- 
thing for  the  occasion.  Thereupon  Handel  wrote 
the  twenty-five  little  concerted  pieces  known  un- 
der the  title  of  “ Water  Music.”  They  were  exe- 
cuted in  a barge  which  followed  the  royal  boat. 
The  orchestra  consisted  of  four  violins,  one  tenor, 
one  violoncello,  one  double-bass,  two  hautboys, 
two  bassoons,  two  French  horns,  two  flageolets, 
one  flute,  and  one  trumpet.  The  king  soon  rec- 
ognized the  author  of  the  music,  and  his  resent- 


26  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


ment  against  Handel  began  to  soften.  Shortly 
after  this  Geminiani  was  requested  to  play  some 
sonatas  of  his  own  composition  in  the  king’s  pri- 
vate cabinet ; but,  fearing  that  they  would  lose 
much  of  their  effect  if  they  were  accompanied  in 
an  inferior  manner,  he  expressed  the  desire  that 
Handel  should  play  the  accompaniments.  Baron 
Kilmanseck  carried  the  request  to  the  king,  and 
supported  it  strongly.  The  result  was  that  peace 
was  made,  and  an  extra  pension  of  two  hundred 
pounds  per  annum  settled  upon  Handel.  Gemi- 
niani, after  thirty-five  years  spent  in  England, 
went  to  Paris  for  five  years,  where  he  was  most 
heartily  welcomed  by  the  musical  world,  but  re- 
turned across  the  Channel  again  to  spend  his 
latter  years  in  Dublin.  It  was  here  that  Mat- 
thew Dubourg,  whose  book  on  “ The  Violin  and 
Violinists”  is  a perfect  treasure- trove  of  anec- 
dote, became  his  pupil. 

Another  remarkable  violinist  was  an  intimate 
friend  of  Geminiani,  a name  distinguished  alike 
in  the  annals  of  chess-playing  and  music,  Andre 
Danican  Philidor.  This  musician  was  born  near 
Paris  in  1726,  and  was  the  grandson  of  the  haut- 
boy-player to  the  court  of  Louis  XIII.  His  father 
and  several  of  his  relations  were  also  eminent 
players  in  the  royal  orchestras  of  Louis  XIV  and 
Louis  XV.  Young  Philidor  was  received  into 
the  Chapel  Royal  at  Versailles  in  1732,  being  then 
six  years  old,  and  when  eleven  he  composed  a 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  27 


motette  which  extorted  much  admiration.  In  the 
Chapel  Royal  there  were  about  eighty  musicians 
daily  in  attendance,  violins,  hautboys,  violas,  dou- 
ble-basses, choristers,  etc.;  and,  cards  not  being 
allowed,  they  had  a long  table  inlaid  with  a num- 
ber of  chess-boards,  with  which  they  amused  their 
leisure  time.  When  fourteen  years  old  Philidor 
was  the  best  chess-player  in  the  band.  Four  years 
later  he  played  at  Paris  two  games  of  chess  at  the 
same  time,  without  seeing  the  boards,  and  after- 
ward extended  this  feat  to  playing  five  games 
simultaneously,  which,  though  far  inferior  to  the 
wonderful  feats  of  Morphy,  Paulsen,  and  others 
in  more  recent  years,  very  much  astonished  his 
own  generation.  Philidor  was  an  admirable  vio- 
linist, and  the  composer  of  numerous  operas  which 
delighted  the  French  public  for  many  years.  He 
died  in  London  in  1759. 

There  were  several  other  pupils  of  Corelli  who 
achieved  rank  in  their  art  and  exerted  a recogniz- 
able influence  on  music.  Locatelli  displayed  ori- 
ginality and  genius  in  his  compositions,  and  his 
studies,  “ Arte  di  Nuova  Modulazione,”  was  stud- 
ied by  Paganini.  Another  pupil,  Lorenzo  Somis, 
became  noted  as  the  teacher  of  Lecler,  Pugnani 
(the  professor  of  Viotti),  and  Giardini.  Visconti, 
of  Cremona,  who  was  taught  by  Corelli,  is  said  to 
have  greatly  assisted  by  his  counsels  the  construc- 
tive genius  of  Antonius  Stradiuarius  in  making 
his  magnificent  instruments. 


28  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


IV. 

The  name  of  Giuseppe  Tartini  will  recur  to 
the  musical  reader  more  familiarly  than  those 
previously  mentioned.  He  was  the  scion  of  a 
noble  stock,  and  was  born  in  Istria  in  1692. 
Originally  intended  for  the  law,  he  was  entered  at 
the  University  of  Padua  at  the  age  of  eighteen  for 
this  profession,  hut  his  time  was  mostly  given  to 
the  study  of  music  and  fencing,  in  both  of  which 
he  soon  became  remarkably  proficient,  so  that  he 
surpassed  the  masters  who  taught  him.  It  may 
be  that  accident  determined  the  future  career  of 
Tartini,  for,  had  he  remained  at  the  university, 
the  whole  bent  of  his  life  might  have  been  differ- 
ent. Eros  exerted  his  potent  sway  over  the  young 
student,  and  he  entered  into  a secret  marriage, 
that  being  the  lowest  price  at  which  he  could  win 
his  bourgeois  sweetheart.  Tartini  became  an  out- 
cast from  his  family,  and  was  compelled  to  fly  and 
labor  for  his  own  living.  After  many  hardships, 
he  found  shelter  in  a convent  at  Assisi,  the  prior 
of  which  was  a family  connection,  who  took  com- 
passion on  the  friendless  youth.  Here  Tartini 
set  to  work  vigorously  on  his  violin,  and  prose- 
cuted a series  of  studies  which  resulted  in  the 
66  Sonata  del  Diavolo  ” and  other  remarkable  com- 
positions. At  last  he  was  reconciled  to  his  family 
through  the  intercession  of  his  monastic  friend, 
and  took  his  abode  in  Venice  that  he  might  have 
the  benefit  of  hearing  the  playing  of  Veracini,  a 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  29 


great  but  eccentric  musician,  then  at  the  head  of 
the  Conservatario  of  that  city.  Veracini  was  nick- 
named “Capo  Pazzo,”  or  “mad-head,”  on  ac- 
count of  his  eccentricity.  Dubourg  tells  a curious 
story  of  this  musician  : Being  at  Lucca  at  the 
time  of  the  annual  festival  called  “Festa  della 
Croce,”  on  which  occasion  it  was  customary  for 
the  leading  artists  of  Italy  to  meet,  Veracini  put 
his  name  down  for  a solo.  When  he  entered  the 
choir,  he  found  the  principal  place  occupied  by  a 
musician  of  some  rank  named  Laurenti.  In 
reply  to  the  latter’s  question,  “ Where  are  you 
going?”  Veracini  haughtily  answered,  “To  the 
place  of  the  first  violinist.”  It  was  explained  by 
Laurenti  that  he  himself  had  been  engaged  to  fill 
that  post,  but,  if  his  interlocutor  wished  to 
play  a solo,  he  could  have  the  privilege  either  at 
high  mass  or  at  vespers.  Evidently  he  did  not 
recognize  Veracini,  who  turned  away  in  a rage, 
and  took  his  position  in  the  lowest  place  in  the 
orchestra.  When  his  turn  came  to  play  his  con- 
certo, he  begged  that  instead  of  it  he  might  play 
a solo  where  he  was,  accompanied  on  the  violon- 
cello by  Lanzetti.  This  he  did  in  so  brilliant  and 
unexpected  a manner  that  the  applause  was  loud 
and  continued,  in  spite  of  the  sacred  nature  of 
the  place  ; and  whenever  he  was  about  to  make  a 
close,  he  turned  toward  Laurenti  and  called  out : 
“Cosi  se  suona  per  fare  il  prime  violino  ” — “ This 
is  the  tray  to  play  first  violin.” 


30  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

Yeracini  played  upon  a fine  Steiner  violin. 
The  only  master  he  ever  had  was  his  uncle  An- 
tonio, of  Florence  ; and  it  was  by  traveling  all 
over  Europe,  and  by  numerous  performances  in 
public,  that  he  formed  a style  of  playing  peculiar 
to  himself,  very  similar  to  what  occurred  to  Pa- 
ganini and  the  celebrated  De  Beriot  in  later  years. 
It  does  not  appear  certain  that  Tartini  ever  took 
lessons  from  Yeracini ; but  hearing  the  latter  play 
in  public  had  no  doubt  a very  great  effect  upon 
him,  and  caused  him  to  devote  many  years  to  the 
careful  study  of  his  instrument.  Some  say  that 
Yeracini’s  performance  awakened  a vivid  emula- 
tion in  Tartini,  who  was  already  acknowledged  to 
be  a very  masterly  player.  Up  to  the  time,  how- 
ever, that  Tartini  first  heard  Yeracini,  he  had 
never  attempted  any  of  the  more  intricate  and 
difficult  feats  of  violin-playing,  as  effected  by  the 
management  of  the  bow.  An  intimate  friendship 
sprang  up  between  the  two  artists  and  another 
clever  musician  named  Marcello,  and  they  devoted 
much  time  to  the  study  of  the  principles  of  violin- 
playing, particularly  to  style  and  the  varied  kinds 
of  bowing.  Yeracini’s  mind  afterward  gave  way, 
and  Tartini  withdrew  himself  to  Ancona,  where 
in  utter  solitude  he  applied  himself  to  working 
out  the  fundamental  principles  of  the  bow  in  the 
technique  of  the  violin — -principles  which  no  suc- 
ceeding violinist  has  improved  or  altered.  Tar- 
tini, even  while  absorbed  in  music,  did  not  neglect 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  31 


the  study  of  science  and  mathematics,  of  which  he 
was  passionately  fond,  and  in  the  pursuit  of  which 
he  might  have  made  a name  not  less  than  his 
reputation  as  a musician.  It  was  at  this  time 
that  Tartini  made  a very  curious  discovery,  known 
as  the  phenomenon  of  the  third  sound , which 
created  some  sensation  at  the  time,  and  has  since 
given  rise  to  numerous  learned  discourses,  but 
does  not  appear  to  have  led  to  any  great  practical 
result.  Various  memoirs  or  treatises  were  written 
by  him,  and  that  in  which  he  develops  the  nature 
of  the  third  sound  is  his  “ Tratto  di  Musica  se- 
condo  la  vera  scienza  dell?  Armonia.”  In  this 
and  others  of  his  works,  he  appears  much  devoted 
to  theory , and  endeavors  to  place  all  his  practical 
facts  upon  a thoroughly  scientific  basis.  The 
effect  known  as  the  third  sound  consists  in  the 
sympathetic  resonance  of  a third  note  when  the 
two  upper  notes  of  a chord  are  played  in  perfect 
tune.  “If  you  do  not  hear  the  bass/5  Tartini 
would  say  to  his  pupils,  “the  thirds  or  sixths 
which  you  are  playing  are  not  perfect  in  intona- 
tion.” 

At  Ancona,  Tartini  attained  such  reputation 
as  a player  and  musician  that  he  was  appointed, 
in  1721,  to  the  directorship  of  the  orchestra  of  the 
church  of  St.  Anthony  at  Padua.  Here,  according 
to  Fetis,  he  spent  the  remaining  forty-nine  years 
of  his  life  in  peace  and  comfort,  solely  occupied 
with  the  labors  connected  with  the  art  he  loved. 


32  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


His  great  fame  brought  him  repeated  offers  from 
the  principal  cities  of  Europe,  even  London  and 
Paris,  but  nothing  could  induce  him  to  leave  his 
beloved  Italy.  Though  Tartini  could  not  have 
been  heard  out  of  Italy,  his  violin  school  at  Padua 
graduated  many  excellent  players,  who  were  widely 
known  throughout  the  musical  world.  Tartini ’s 
compositions  reached  no  less  than  one  hundred 
and  fifty  works,  distinguished  not  only  by  beauty 
of  melody  and  knowledge  of  the  violin,  but  by 
soundness  of  musical  science.  Some  of  his  sona- 
tas are  still  favorites  in  the  concert-room.  Among 
these,  the  most  celebrated  is  the  “ Trille  del  Dia- 
volo,”  or  “Devil’s  Sonata/’  composed  under  the 
following  circumstances,  as  related  by  Tartini  him- 
self to  his  pupil  Lalande  : 

“ One  night  in  1713,”  he  says,  “ I dreamed  that 
I had  made  a compact  with  the  devil,  who  prom- 
ised to  be  at  my  service  on  all  occasions.  Every- 
thing succeeded  according  to  my  mind  ; my  wishes 
were  anticipated  and  desires  always  surpassed  by 
the  assistance  of  my  new  servant.  At  last  I 
thought  I would  offer  my  violin  to  the  devil,  in 
order  to  discover  what  kind  of  a musician  he  was, 
when,  to  my  great  astonishment,  I heard  him  play 
a solo,  so  singularly  beautiful  and  with  such  supe- 
rior taste  and  precision,  that  it  surpassed  all  the 
music  I had  ever  heard  or  conceived  in  the  whole 
course  of  my  life.  I was  so  overcome  with  sur- 
prise and  delight  that  I lost  my  power  of  breath- 


TIIE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  83 


ing,  and  the  violence  of  this  sensation  awoke  me. 
Instantly  I seized  my  violin  in  the  hopes  of  re- 
membering some  portion  of  what  I had  just  heard, 
but  in  vain  ! The  work  which  this  dream  sug- 
gested, and  which  I wrote  at  the  time,  is  doubt- 
less the  best  of  all  my  compositions,  and  I still 
call  it  the  Sonata  del  Diavolo  ? ; but  it  sinks  so 
much  into  insignificance  compared  with  what  I 
heard,  that  I would  have  broken  my  instrument 
and  abandoned  music  altogether,  had  I possessed 
any  other  means  of  subsistence.  ” 

Tartini  died  at  Padua  in  1770,  and  so  much 
was  he  revered  and  admired  in  the  city  where  he 
had  spent  nearly  fifty  years  of  his  life,  that  his 
death  was  regarded  as  a public  calamity.  He  used 
to  say  of  himself  that  he  never  made  any  real  prog- 
ress in  music  till  he  was  more  than  thirty  years 
old  ; and  it  is  curious  that  he  should  have  made  a 
great  change  in  the  nature  of  his  performance  at 
the  age  of  fifty-two.  Instead  of  displaying  his 
skill  in  difficulties  of  execution,  he  learned  to  pre- 
fer grace  and  expression.  His  method  of  playing 
an  adagio  was  regarded  as  inimitable  by  his  con- 
temporaries ; and  he  transmitted  this  gift  to  his 
pupil  Nardini,  who  was  afterward  called  the  great- 
est adagio  player  in  the  world.  Another  of  Tar- 
tini’s  great  eleves  wTas  Pugnani,  who  before  com- 
ing to  him  had  been  instructed  by  Lorenzo  Somis, 
the  pupil  of  Corelli.  So  it  may  be  said  that  Pugna- 
ni united  in  himself  the  schools  of  Corelli  and 


34  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


Tartini,  and  was  thus  admirably  fitted  to  be  the 
instructor  of  that  grand  player,  who  was  the  first 
in  date  of  the  violin  virtuosos  of  modern  times, 
Viotti. 

Both  as  composer  and  performer,  Pugnani  was 
held  in  great  esteem  throughout  Europe.  His  first 
meeting  with  Tartini  was  an  incident  of  consider- 
able interest.  He  made  the  journey  from  Paris  to 
Padua  expressly  to  see  Tartini,  and  on  reaching 
his  destination  he  proceeded  to  the  house  of  the 
great  violinist. 

Tartini  received  him  kindly,  and  evinced  some 
curiosity  to  hear  him  play.  Pugnani  took  up  his 
instrument  and  commenced  a well-known  solo, 
but  he  had  not  played  many  bars  before  Tartini 
suddenly  seized  his  arm,  saying,  “Too  loud,  my 
friend,  too  loud  ! ” The  Piedmontese  began  again, 
but  at  the  same  passage  Tartini  stopped  him  again, 
exclaiming  this  time,  “ Too  soft,  my  good  friend, 
too  soft ! ” Pugnani  therefore  laid  down  the  vio- 
lin, and  begged  of  Tartini  to  give  him  some  lessons. 
He  was  at  once  received  among  Tartini’s  pupils, 
and,  though  already  an  excellent  artist,  began  his 
musical  education  almost  entirely  anew.  Many 
anecdotes  have  been  foisted  upon  Pugnani,  some 
evidently  the  creation  of  rivals,  and  not  worth  re- 
peating. Others,  on  the  contrary,  tend  to  enlighten 
us  upon  the  character  of  the  man.  Thus,  when 
playing,  he  was  so  completely  absorbed  in  the  mu- 
sic, that  he  has  been  known,  at  a public  concert,  to 


THE  VIOLIN  AND  EARLY  VIOLINISTS.  35 

walk  about  the  platform  during  the  performance  of 
a favorite  cadenza,  imagining  himself  alone  in  the 
room.  Again,  at  the  house  of  Madame  Denis, 
when  requested  to  play  before  Voltaire,  who  had 
little  or  no  music  in  his  soul,  Pugnani  stopped 
short,  when  the  latter  had  the  bad  taste  to  con- 
tinue his  conversation,  remarking  in  a loud,  clear 
voice,  “M.  de  Voltaire  is  very  clever  in  making 
verses,  but  as  regards  music  he  is  devilishly  ig- 
norant.” Pugnani’s  style  of  play  is  said  to  have 
been  very  broad  and  noble,  “ characterized  by  that 
commanding  sweep  of  the  bow,  which  afterward 
formed  so  grand  a feature  in  the  performance  of 
Viotti.”  He  was  distinguished  as  a composer  as 
well  as  a player,  and  among  his  numerous  works 
are  some  seven  or  eight  operas,  which  were  very 
successful  for  the  time  being  on  the  Italian  stage0 


VIOTTI. 


Viotti,  the  Connecting  Link  between  the  Early  and  Modern  Violin 
Schools. — His  Immense  Superiority  over  his  Contemporaries 
and  Predecessors. — Other  Violinists  of  his  Time,  Giornowick 
and  Boccherini.— Viotti’ s Early  Years — His  Arrival  in  Paris, 
and  the  Sensation  he  made. — His  Reception  by  the  Court. — 
Viotti’ s Personal  Pride  and  Dignity. — His  Rebuke  to  Princely 
Impertinence. — The  Musical  Circles  of  Paris. — Viotti’s  Last 
Public  Concert  in  Paris. — He  suddenly  departs  for  London. — 
Becomes  Director  of  the  King’s  Theatre. — Is  compelled  to 
leave  the  Country  as  a Suspected  Revolutionist. — His  Return  to 
England,  and  Metamorphosis  into  a Vintner. — The  French 
Singer,  Garat,  finds  him  out  in  his  London  Obscurity. — An- 
ecdote of  Viotti’s  Dinner  Party. — He  quits  the  Wine  Trade  for 
his  own  Profession. — Is  made  Director  of  the  Paris  Grand 
Opera. — Letter  from  Rossini. — Viotti’s  Account  of  the  u Ranz 
des  Vaches.” — Anecdotes  of  the  Great  Violinist. — Dies  in  Lon- 
don in  1824. — Viotti’s  Place  as  a Violinist,  and  Style  of  Play- 
ing.— The  Tourte  Bow  first  invented  during  his  Time. — An 
Indispensable  Factor  in  Great  Playing  on  the  Violin. — Viotti’s 
Pupils,  and  his  Influence  on  the  Musical  Art. 

I. 

Ik  the  person  of  the  celebrated  Viotti  we  rec- 
ognize the  link  connecting  the  modern  school  of 
violin-playing  with  the  schools  of  the  past.  He 
was  generally  hailed  as  the  leading  violinist  of 
his  time,  and  his  influence,  not  merely  on  violin 
music  but  music  in  general,  was  of  a very  pal- 
pable order.  In  him  were  united  the  accom- 


VIOTTI. 


37 


plishments  of  the  great  virtuoso  and  the  gifts  of 
the  composer.  At  the  time  that  Viotti’s  star  shot 
into  such  splendor  in  the  musical  horizon,  there 
were  not  a few  clever  violinists,  and  only  a gen- 
ius of  the  finest  type  could  have  attained  and 
perpetuated  such  a regal  sway  among  his  contem- 
poraries. At  the  time  when  Yiotti  appeared  in 
Paris  the  popular  heart  was  completely  captivated 
by  Giornowick,  whose  eccentric  and  quarrelsome 
character  as  a man  cooperated  with  his  artistic 
excellence  to  keep  him  constantly  in  the  pub- 
lic eye.  Giornowick  was  a Palermitan,  born  in 
1745,  and  his  career  was  thoroughly  artistic 
and  full  of  romantic  vicissitudes.  His  style  was 
very  graceful  and  elegant,  his  tone  singularly 
pure.  One  of  the  most  popular  and  seductive 
tricks  in  his  art  was  the  treating  of  well-known 
airs  as  rondos,  returning  ever  and  anon  to  his 
theme  after  a variety  of  brilliant  excursions  in  a 
way  that  used  to  fascinate  his  hearers,  thus  antici- 
pating some  of  his  brilliant  successors. 

Michael  Kelly  heard  him  at  Vienna.  “ He 
was  a man  of  a certain  age,”  he  tells  us,  “ but  in 
the  full  vigor  of  talent.  His  tone  was  very  power- 
ful, his  execution  most  rapid,  and  his  taste,  above 
all,  alluring.  No  performer  in  my  remembrance 
played  such  pleasing  music.”  Dubourg  relates 
that  on  one  occasion,  when  Giornowick  had  an- 
nounced a concert  at  Lyons,  he  found  the  people 
rather  retentive  of  their  money,  so  he  postponed 


38  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


the  concert  to  the  following  evening,  reducing 
the  price  of  the  tickets  to  one  half.  A crowded 
company  was  the  result.  But  the  bird  had  flown  ! 
The  artist  had  left  Lyons  without  ceremony,  to- 
gether with  the  receipts  from  sales  of  tickets. 

In  London,  where  he  was  frequently  heard  be- 
tween 1792  and  1796,  he  once  gave  a concert 
which  was  fully  attended,  but  annoying  to  the 
player  on  account  of  the  indifference  of  the  audi- 
ence and  the  clatter  of  the  tea-cups  ; for  it  was  then 
the  custom  to  serve  tea  during  the  performance, 
as  well  as  during  the  intervals.  Giornowick 
turned  to  the  orchestra  and  ordered  them  to 
cease  playing.  “ These  people, ” said  he,  “know 
nothing  about  music  ; anything  is  good  enough 
for  drinkers  of  warm  water.  I will  give  them 
something  suited  to  their  taste.  ” Whereupon  he 
played  a very  trivial  and  commonplace  French 
air,  which  he  disguised  with  all  manner  of  mere- 
tricious flourishes,  and  achieved  a great  success. 
When  Yiotti  arrived  in  Paris  in  1779,  Giornowick 
started  on  his  travels  after  having  heard  this  new 
rival  once. 

A distinguished  virtuoso  and  composer,  with 
whom  Viotti  had  already  been  thrown  into  con- 
tact, though  in  a friendly  rather  than  a compet- 
itive way,  was  Boccherini,  who  was  one  of  the 
most  successful  early  composers  of  trios,  quar- 
tets, and  quintets  for  string  instruments.  Dur- 
ing the  latter  part  of  Boccherini’s  life  he  basked 


VIOTTI. 


39 


in  tlie  sunlight  of  Spanish  royalty,  and  composed 
nine  works  annually  for  the  Royal  Academy  of 
Madrid,  in  which  town  he  died  in  1806,  aged 
sixty-six.  A very  clever  saying  is  attributed  to 
him.  The  King  of  Spain,  Charles  IV,  was  fond 
of  playing  with  the  great  composer,  and  was  very 
ambitious  of  shining  as  a great  violinist ; his 
cousin,  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  was  also  fond  of 
the  violin,  and  played  tolerably  well.  One  day 
the  latter  asked  Boccherini,  in  a rather  straight- 
forward manner,  what  difference  there  was  be- 
tween his  playing  and  that  of  his  cousin  Charles 
IV.  “ Sire,”  replied  Boccherini,  without  hesi- 
tating for  a moment,  “Charles  IV  plays  like  a 
king,  and  your  Majesty  plays  like  an  empe- 
ror.” 

Giovanni  Battista  Viotti  was  born  in  a little 
Piedmontese  village  called  Fontaneto,  in  the  year 
1755.  The  accounts  of  his  early  life  are  too  con- 
fused and  fragmentary  to  be  trustworthy.  It 
is  pretty  well  established,  however,  that  he  stud- 
ied under  Pugnani  at  Turin,  and  that  at  the  age 
of  twenty  he  was  made  first  violin  at  the  Chapel 
Royal  of  that  capital.  After  remaining  three- 
years,  he  began  his  career  as  a solo  player,  and, 
after  meeting  with  the  greatest  success  at  Berlin 
and  Vienna,  directed  his  course  to  Paris,  where 
he  made  his  debut  at  the  “ Concerts  Spirituels.” 


4 


40  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


II. 

Fetis  tells  us  that  “the  arrival  of  Yiotti  in 
Paris  produced  a sensation  difficult  to  describe. 
No  performer  had  yet  been  heard  who  had  at- 
tained so  high  a degree  of  perfection,  no  artist 
had  possessed  so  fine  a tone,  such  sustained  ele- 
gance, such  fire,  and  so  varied  a style.  The  fancy 
which  was  developed  in  his  concertos  increased 
the  delight  he  produced  in  the  minds  of  his  audi- 
tory. His  compositions  for  the  violin  were  as  su- 
perior to  those  which  had  previously  been  heard  as 
his  execution  surpassed  that  of  all  his  predecessors 
and  contemporaries.  Giornowick’s  style  was  full 
of  grace  and  suave  elegance ; Yiotti  was  charac- 
terized by  a remarkable  beauty,  breadth,  and  dig- 
nity. Lavish  attentions  were  bestowed  on  him 
from  the  court  circle.  Marie  Antoinette,  who  was 
an  ardent  lover  and  most  judicious  patron  of  mu- 
sic, sent  him  her  commands  to  play  at  Versailles. 
The  haughty  artistic  pride  of  Yiotti  was  signally 
displayed  at  one  of  these  concerts  before  royalty. 
A large  number  of  eminent  musicians  had  been 
engaged  for  the  occasion,  and  the  audience  was  a 
most  brilliant  one.  Yiotti  had  just  begun  a con- 
certo of  his  own  composition,  when  the  arrogant 
Comte  d? Artois  made  a great  bustle  in  the  room, 
and  interrupted  the  music  by  his  loud  whispers 
and  utter  indifference  to  the  comfort  of  any  one 
but  himself.  Viotti’s  dark  eyes  flashed  fire  as 
he  stared  sternly  at  this  rude  scion  of  the  blood 


VIOTTI. 


41 


royal.  At  last,  unable  to  restrain  his  indignation, 
he  deliberately  placed  his  violin  in  the  case,  gath- 
ered up  his  music  from  the  stand,  and  withdrew 
from  the  concert-room  without  ceremony,  leaving 
the  concert,  her  Majesty,  and  his  Koyal  High- 
ness to  the  reproaches  of  the  audience.  This 
scene  is  an  exact  parallel  of  one  which  occurred 
at  the  house  of  Cardinal  Ottoboni,  when  Corelli 
resented  in  similar  fashion  the  impertinence  of 
some  of  his  auditors. 

Everywhere  in  artistic  and  aristocratic  circles 
at  the  French  capital  Viotti’s  presence  was  eager- 
ly sought.  Private  concerts  were  so  much  the 
vogue  in  Paris  that  musicians  of  high  rank  found 
more  profit  in  these  than  in  such  as  were  given 
to  the  miscellaneous  public.  A delightful  artistic 
rendezvous  was  the  hotel  of  the  Comte  de  Balck, 
an  enthusiastic  patron  and  friend  of  musicians. 
Here  Viotti’s  friend,  Garat,  whose  voice  had  so 
great  a range  as  to  cover  both  the  tenor  and  bary- 
tone registers,  was  wont  to  sing  ; and  here  young 
Orfila,  the  brilliant  chemist,  displayed  his  mag- 
nificent tenor  voice  in  such  a manner  as  to  attract 
the  most  tempting  offers  from  managers  that 
he  should  desert  the  laboratory  for  the  stage. 
But  the  young  Portuguese  was  fascinated  with 
science,  and  was  already  far  advanced  in  the  ca- 
reer which  made  him  in  his  day  the  greatest  of 
all  authorities  on  toxicological  chemistry.  The 
most  brilliant  and  gifted  men  and  women  of 


42  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


Paris  haunted  these  reunions,  and  Viotti  always 
appeared  at  his  best  amid  such  surroundings. 
Another  favorite  resort  of  his  was  the  house  of 
Mme.  Montegerault  at  Montmorency,  a lady  who 
was  a brilliant  pianist.  Sometimes  she  would 
seat  herself  at  her  instrument  and  begin  an  im- 
provisation, and  Viotti,  seizing  his  violin,  would 
join  in  the  performance,  and  in  a series  of  ex- 
temporaneous passages  display  his  great  powers 
to  the  delight  of  all  present. 

He  evinced  the  greatest  distaste  for  solo  play- 
ing at  public  concerts,  and,  aside  from  charity 
performances,  only  consented  once  to  such  an  ex- 
hibition of  his  talents.  A singular  concert  was 
arranged  to  take  place  on  the  fifth  story  of  a 
house  in  Paris,  the  apartment  being  occupied  by 
a friend  of  Viotti,  who  was  also  a member  of  the 
Government.  “ I will  play,”  he  said,  on  being 
urged,  “but  only  on  one  condition,  and  that  is, 
that  the  audience  shall  come  up  here  to  us — we 
have  long  enough  descended  to  them  ; but  times 
are  changed,  and  now  we  may  compel  them  to 
rise  to  our  level  ” ; or  something  to  that  effect. 
It  took  place  in  due  course,  and  was  a very  bril- 
liant concert  indeed.  The  only  ornament  was  a 
bust  of  Jean  Jacques  Kousseau.  A large  number 
of  distinguished  artists,  both  instrumental  and 
vocal,  were  present,  and  a most  aristocratic  audi- 
ence. A good  deal  of  Boccherini’s  music  was 
performed  that  evening,  and  though  many  of  the 


VIOTTI. 


43 


titled  personages  had  mounted  to  the  fifth  floor 
for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  so  complete  was 
the  success  of  the  concert  that  not  one  descended 
without  regret,  and  all  were  warm  in  their  praise 
of  the  performances  of  the  distinguished  violinist. 

What  the  cause  of  Viotti’s  sudden  departure 
from  Paris  in  1790  was,  it  is  difficult  to  tell. 
Perhaps  he  had  offended  the  court  by  the  inde- 
pendence of  his  bearing ; perhaps  he  had  ex- 
pressed his  political  opinions  too  bluntly,  for  he 
was  strongly  democratic  in  his  views  ; perhaps  he 
foresaw  the  terrible  storm  which  was  gathering 
and  was  soon  to  break  in  a wrack  of  ruin,  chaos, 
and  blood.  Whatever  the  cause,  our  violinist 
vanished  from  Paris  with  hardly  a word  of  fare- 
well to  his  most  intimate  friends,  and  appeared 
in  London  at  Salomon’s  concerts  with  the  same 
success  which  had  signalized  his  Parisian  debut . 
Every  one  was  delighted  with  the  originality  and 
power  of  his  playing,  and  the  exquisite  taste  that 
modified  the  robustness  and  passion  which  en- 
tered into  the  substance  of  his  musical  concep- 
tions. 

Viotti  was  one  of  the  artistic  celebrities  of 
London  for  several  years,  but  his  eccentric  and 
resolute  nature  did  not  fail  to  involve  him  in  sev- 
eral difficulties  with  powerful  personages.  He 
became  connected  with  the  management  of  the 
King’s  Theatre,  and  led  the  music  for  two  years 
with  signal  ability.  But  he  suddenly  received  an 


44  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


order  from  the  British  Government  to  leave  Eng- 
land without  delay.  His  sharp  tongue  and  out- 
spoken language  were  never  consistent  with  courtly 
subserviency.  We  can  fancy  our  musician  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders  with  disdain  on  receiving  his 
order  of  banishment,  for  he  was  too  much  of  a cos- 
mopolite to  be  disturbed  by  change  of  country. 
He  took  up  his  residence  at  Schonfeld,  Holland, 
in  a beautiful  and  splendid  villa,  and  produced 
there  several  of  his  most  celebrated  compositions, 
as  well  as  a series  of  studies  of  the  violin  school. 

ill. 

The  edict  which  had  sent  Viotti  from  England 
was  revoked  in  1801,  and  he  returned  with  com- 
mercial aspirations,  for  he  entered  into  the  wine 
trade.  It  could  not  be  said  of  him,  as  of  another 
well-known  composer,  who  attempted  to  conduct 
a business  in  the  vending  of  sweet  sounds  and 
the  juice  of  the  grape  simultaneously,  that  he 
composed  his  wines  and  imported  his  music  ; for 
Viotti  seems  to  have  laid  music  entirely  aside  for 
the  nonce,  and  we  have  no  reason  to  suspect  that 
his  port  and  sherry  were  not  of  the  best.  Atten- 
tion to  business  did  not  keep  him  from  losing  a 
large  share  of  his  fortune,  however,  in  this  mer- 
cantile venture,  and  for  a while  he  was  so  com- 
pletely lost  in  the  London  Babel  as  to  have  passed 
out  of  sight  and  mind  of  his  old  admirers.  The 
French  singer,  Garat,  tells  an  amusing  story  of 


VIOTTI. 


45 


his  discovery  of  Viotti  in  London,  when  none  of 
his  Continental  friends  knew  what  had  become  of 
him. 

In  the  very  zenith  of  his  powers  and  height  of 
his  reputation,  the  founder  of  a violin  school  which 
remains  celebrated  to  this  day,  Viotti  had  quitted 
Paris  suddenly,  and  since  his  departure  no  one  had 
received,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  any  news  of 
him.  According  to  Garat,  some  vague  indications 
led  him  to  believe  that  the  celebrated  violinist  had 
taken  up  his  residence  in  London,  but,  for  a long 
time  after  his  (Garat’s)  arrival  in  the  metropolis, 
all  his  attempts  to  find  him  were  fruitless.  At 
last,  one  morning  he  went  to  a large  export  house 
for  wine.  It  had  a spacious  courtyard,  filled  with 
numbers  of  large  barrels,  among  which  it  was  not 
easy  to  move  toward  the  office  or  counting-house. 
On  entering  the  latter,  the  first  person  who  met 
his  gaze  was  Viotti  himself.  Viotti  was  sur- 
rounded by  a legion  of  employees,  and  so  ab- 
sorbed in  business  that  he  did  not  notice  Garat, 
At  last  he  raised  his  head,  and,  recognizing  his 
old  friend,  seized  him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him 
into  an  adjoining  room,  where  he  gave  him  a 
hearty  welcome.  Garat  could  not  believe  his 
senses,  and  stood  motionless  with  surprise. 

“I  see  you  are  astonished  at  the  metamorpho- 
sis,’5 said  Viotti;  “it  is  certainly  drole — unex- 
pected ; but  what  could  you  expect  ? At  Paris  I 
was  looked  upon  as  a ruined  man,  lost  to  all  my 


46  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


friends ; it  was  necessary  to  do  something  to  get 
a living,  and  here  I am,  making  my  fortune  ! ” 

“But,”  interrupted  Garat,  “have  you  taken 
into  consideration  all  the  drawbacks  and  annoy- 
ances of  a profession  to  which  you  were  not 
brought  up,  and  which  must  be  opposed  to  your 
tastes  ? ” 

“I  perceive,”  continued  Yiotti,  “that  you 
share  the  error  which  so  many  indulge  in.  Com- 
mercial enterprise  is  generally  considered  a most 
prosaic  undertaking,  but  it  has,  nevertheless,  its 
seductions,  its  prestige,  its  poetical  side.  I assure 
you  no  musician,  no  poet,  ever  had  an  existence 
more  full  of  interesting  and  exciting  incidents 
than  those  which  cause  the  heart  of  the  merchant 
to  throb.  His  imagination,  stimulated  by  success, 
carries  him  forward  to  new  conquests  ; his  clients 
increase,  his  fortune  augments,  the  finest  dreams 
of  ambition  are  ever  before  him.” 

“But  art!”  again  interrupted  his  friend; 
“the  art  of  which  you  are  one  of  the  finest  repre- 
sentatives— you  can  not  have  entirelv  abandoned 
it  ?” 

“Art  will  lose  nothing,”  rejoined  Yiotti, 
“ and  you  will  find  that  I can  conciliate  two 
things  without  interfering  with  either,  though 
you  doubtless  consider  them  irreconcilable.  We 
will  continue  this  subject  another  time  ; at  pres- 
ent I must  leave  you  ; I have  some  pressing  busi- 
ness to  transact  this  afternoon.  But  come  and 


VIOTTI. 


47 


dine  with  me  at  six  o’clock,  and  be  sure  you  do 
not  disappoint  me.” 

Garat,  who  relates  this  conversation,  tells  us 
that  at  the  appointed  time  he  returned  to  the 
house.  All  the  barrels  and  wagons  that  had 
encumbered  the  courtyard  were  cleared  away, 
and  in  their  place  were  coroneted  carriages,  with 
footmen  and  servants.  A lackey  in  brilliant  liv- 
ery conducted  the  visitor  to  the  drawing-room  on 
the  first  floor.  The  apartments  were  magnifi- 
cently furnished,  and  glittered  with  mirrors, 
candelabra,  gilt  ornaments,  and  the  most  quaint 
and  costly  bric-a-brac . Yiotti  received  his  guests 
at  the  head  of  the  staircase,  no  longer  the  plod- 
ding man  of  business,  but  the  courtly,  high-bred 
gentleman.  Garat’s  amazement  was  still  further 
increased  when  he  heard  the  names  of  the  other 
guests,  all  distinguished  men.  After  an  admi- 
rably cooked  dinner,  there  was  still  more  admirable 
music,  and  Yiotti  proved  to  the  satisfaction  of  his 
French  friend  that  he  was  still  the  same  great 
artist  who  had  formerly  delighted  his  listeners 
in  Paris. 

The  wine  business  turned  out  so  badly  for  our 
violinist  that  he  was  fain  to  return  to  his  old  and 
legitimate  profession.  Through  the  intervention 
of  powerful  friends  in  Paris,  he  was  appointed 
director  of  the  Grand  Opera,  but  he  became 
discontented  in  a Very  onerous  and  irritating  po- 
sition, and  was  retired  at  his  own  request  with  a 


48  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

pension.  An  interesting  letter  from  the  great 
Italian  composer  Rossini,  who  was  then  first  try- 
ing his  fortune  in  the  French  metropolis,  written 
to  Viotti  in  1821,  is  pleasant  proof  of  the  esti- 
mate placed  on  his  talents  and  influence  : 

“ Most  esteemed  Sir  : You  will  be  sur- 
prised at  receiving  a letter  from  an  individual 
who  has  not  the  honor  of  your  personal  ac- 
quaintance, but  I profit  by  the  liberality  of  feel- 
ing existing  among  artists  to  address  these  lines 
to  you  through  my  friend  Herold,  from  whom  I 
have  learned  with  the  greatest  satisfaction  the 
high,  and,  I fear,  somewhat  undeserved  opinion 
you  have  of  me.  The  oratorio  of  ‘Moise/  com- 
posed by  me  three  years  ago,  appears  to  our 
mutual  friend  susceptible  of  dramatic  adaptation 
to  French  words  ; and  I,  who  have  the  greatest 
reliance  on  Herold’s  taste  and  on  his  friendship 
for  me,  desire  nothing  more  than  to  render  the 
entire  work  as  perfect  as  possible,  by  composing 
new  airs  in  a more  religious  style  than  those 
which  it  at  present  contains,  and  by  endeavor- 
ing to  the  best  of  my  power  that  the  result  shall 
neither  disgrace  the  composer  of  the  partition, 
nor  you,  its  patron  and  protector.  If  M.  Viotti, 
with  his  great  celebrity,  will  consent  to  be  the 
Mecaenas  of  my  name,  he  may  be  assured  of  the 
gratitude  of  his  devoted  servant, 

“Gioacchino  Rossini. 


VIOTTI. 


49 


“ p.  S. — In  a month’s  time  I will  forward  you 
the  alterations  of  the  drama  ‘ Moise,’  in  order  that 
you  may  judge  if  they  are  conformable  to  the 
operatic  style.  Should  they  not  be  so,  you  will 
have  the  kindness  to  suggest  any  others  better 
adapted  to  the  purpose.” 

IV. 

Viotti,  though  in  many  respects  proud,  reso- 
lute, and  haughty  in  temperament,  was  simple- 
hearted  and  enthusiastic,  and  a passionate  lover  of 
nature.  M.  Eymar,  one  of  his  intimate  friends, 
said  of  him,  “ Never  did  a man  attach  so  much 
value  to  the  simplest  gifts  of  nature,  and  never  did 
a child  enjoy  them  more  passionately.”  A mod- 
est flower  growing  in  the  grass  of  the  meadow,  a 
charming  bit  of  landscape,  a rustic  fete , in  short, 
all  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  country,  filled  him 
with  delight.  All  nature  spoke  to  his  heart,  and 
his  finest  compositions  were  suggested  and  in- 
spired by  this  sympathy.  He  has  left  the  world 
a charming  musical  picture  of  the  feelings  ex- 
perienced in  the  mountains  of  Switzerland.  It 
was  there  he  heard,  under  peculiar  circumstances, 
and  probably  for  the  first  time,  the  plaintive 
sound  of  a mountain-horn,  breathing  forth  the 
few  notes  of  a kind  of  “ Ranz  des  Vaehes.” 

“ The  ‘ Ranz  des  Vaehes’  which  I send  yot  /’ 
he  says  in  one  of  his  letters,  “is  neither  that  with 
which  our  friend  Jean  Jacques  has  presented  us, 


50  tiie  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

nor  that  of  which  M.  De  la  Bord  speaks  in  his 
work  on  music.  I can  not  say  whether  it  is 
known  or  not ; all  I know  is,  that  I heard  it  in 
Switzerland,  and,  once  heard,  I have  never  for- 
gotten it.  I was  sauntering  along,  toward  the  de- 
cline of  day,  in  one  of  those  sequestered  spots.  . . . 
Flowers,  verdure,  streamlets,  all  united  to  form  a 
picture  of  perfect  harmony.  There,  without  be- 
ing fatigued,  I seated  myself  mechanically  on  a 
fragment  of  rock,  and  fell  into  so  profound  a rev- 
erie that  I seemed  to  forget  that  I was  upon  earth. 
While  sitting  thus,  sounds  broke  on  my  ear  which 
were  sometimes  of  a hurried,  sometimes  of  a pro- 
longed and  sustained  character,  and  were  repeated 
in  softened  tones  by  the  echoes  around.  I found 
they  proceeded  from  a mountain-horn  ; and  their 
effect  was  heightened  by  a plaintive  female  voice. 
Struck  as  if  by  enchantment,  I started  from  my 
dreams,  listened  with  breathless  attention,  and 
learned,  or  rather  engraved  upon  my  memory,  the 
‘ Ranz  des  Vaches’  which  I send  you.  In  order 
to  understand  all  its  beauties,  you  ought  to  be 
transplanted  to  the  scene  in  which  I heard  it,  and 
to  feel  all  the  enthusiasm  that  such  a moment 
inspired.”  It  was  a similar  delightful  experience 
which,  according  to  Rossini’s  statement,  first  sug- 
gested to  that  great  composer  his  immortal  opera, 
“ Guillaume  Tell.” 

Among  many  interesting  anecdotes  current  of 
Viotti,  and  one  which  admirably  shows  his  good- 


VIOTTI. 


51 


ness  of  heart  and  quickness  of  resource,  is  one 
narrated  by  Ferdinand  Langle  to  Adolph  Adam, 
the  French  composer.  The  father  of  the  former, 
Marie  Langle,  a professor  of  harmony  in  the 
French  Conservatoire,  was  an  intimate  friend  of 
Yiotti,  and  one  charming  summer  evening  the 
twain  were  strolling  on  the  Champs  Elysees. 
They  sat  down  on  a retired  bench  to  enjoy  the 
calmness  of  the  night,  and  became  buried  in  rev- 
erie. But  they  were  brought  back  to  prosaic 
matters  harshly  by  a babel  of  discordant  noises 
that  grated  on  the  sensitive  ears  of  the  two  musi- 
cians. They  started  from  their  seats,  and  Yiotti 
said : 

“ It  can’t  be  a violin,  and  yet  there  is  some 
resemblance  to  one.” 

“ Nor  a clarionet,”  suggested  Langle,  “ though 
it  is  something  like  it.” 

The  easiest  manner  of  solving  the  problem  was 
to  go  and  see  what  it  was.  They  approached  the 
spot  whence  the  extraordinary  tones  issued,  and 
saw  a poor  blind  man  standing  near  a miserable- 
looking  candle  and  playing  upon  a violin — but 
the  latter  was  an  instrument  made  of  tin-plate. 

“ Fancy!”  exclaimed  Viotti,  “it  is  a violin, 
but  a violin  of  tin-plate  ! Did  you  ever  dream  of 
such  a curiosity  ? ” and,  after  listening  a while,  he 
added,  “ I say,  Langle,  I must  possess  that  instru- 
ment. Go  and  ask  the  old  blind  man  what  he  will 
sell  it  for.” 


52  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


Langle  approached  and  asked  the  question, 
but  the  old  man  was  disinclined  to  part  with  it. 

“ But  we  will  give  you  enough  for  it  to  enable 
you  to  purchase  a better,”  he  added  ; “ and  why 
is  not  your  violin  like  others  ? ” 

The  aged  fiddler  explained  that,  when  he  got 
old  and  found  himself  poor,  not  being  able  to 
work,  but  still  able  to  scrape  a few  airs  upon  a 
violin,  he  had  endeavored  to  procure  one,  but  in 
vain.  At  last  his  good,  kind  nephew  Eustache, 
who  was  apprenticed  to  a tinker,  had  made  him 
one  out  of  a tin-plate.  “ And  an  excellent  one, 
too,”  he  added;  “and  my  poor  boy  Eustache 
brings  me  here  in  the  morning  when  he  goes  to 
work,  and  fetches  me  away  in  the  evening  when 
he  returns,  and  the  receipts  are  not  so  bad  some- 
times— as,  when  he  was  out  of  work,  it  was  I who 
kept  the  house  going.” 

“Well,”  said  Viotti,  “I  will  give  you  twenty 
francs  for  your  violin.  You  can  buy  a much  bet- 
ter one  for  that  price  ; but  let  me  try  it  a little.” 
He  took  the  violin  in  his  hands,  and  produced 
some  extraordinary  effects  from  it.  A consider- 
able crowd  gathered  around,  and  listened  with  curi- 
osity and  astonishment  to  the  performance.  Lan- 
gle seized  on  the  opportunity,  and  passed  around 
the  hat,  gathering  a goodly  amount  of  chink  from 
the  bystanders,  which,  with  the  twenty  francs, 
was  handed  to  the  astonished  old  beggar. 

“ Stay  a moment,”  said  the  blind  man,  recov- 


VIOTTI. 


53 

ering  a little  from  his  surprise  ; “ just  now  I said 
I would  sell  the  violin  for  twenty  francs,  but  I did 
not  know  it  was  so  good.  I ought  to  have  at 
least  double  for  it.” 

Viotti  had  never  received  a more  genuine  com- 
pliment, and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  give  the  old 
man  two  pieces  of  gold  instead  of  one,  and  then  im- 
mediately retired  from  the  spot,  passing  through 
the  crowd  with  the  tin-plate  instrument  under  his 
arm.  He  had  scarcely  gone  forty  yards  when  he 
felt  some  one  pulling  at  his  sleeve  ; it  was  a work- 
man, who  politely  took  off  his  cap,  and  said  : 

“ Sir,  you  have  paid  too  dear  for  that  violin  ; 
and  if  you  are  an  amateur,  as  it  was  I who  made 
it,  I can  supply  you  with  as  many  as  you  like  at 
six  francs  each.  ” 

This  was  Eustache  ; he  had  just  come  in  time 
to  hear  the  conclusion  of  the  bargain,  and,  little 
dreaming  that  he  was  so  clever  a violin-maker, 
wished  to  continue  a trade  that  had  begun  so 
successfully.  However,  Viotti  was  quite  satisfied 
with  the  one  sample  he  had  bought.  He  never 
parted  with  that  instrument  ; and,  when  the  ef- 
fects of  Viotti  were  sold  in  London  after  his 
death,  though  the  tin  fiddle  only  brought  a few 
shillings,  an  amateur  of  curiosities  sought  out 
the  purchaser,  and  offered  him  a large  sum  if  he 
could  explain  how  the  strange  instrument  came 
into  the  possession  of  the  great  violinist. 

After  resigning  his  position  as  director  of  the 


54  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


Grand  Opera,  Viotti  returned  to  London,  which 
had  become  a second  home  to  him,  and  spent  his 
remaining  days  there.  He  died  on  the  24th  of 
March,  1824. 

V. 

Viotti  established  and  settled  for  ever  the 
fundamental  principles  of  violin-playing.  He  did 
not  attain  the  marvelous  skill  of  technique,  the 
varied  subtile  and  dazzling  effects,  with  which  his 
successor,  Paganini,  was  to  amaze  the  world,  but, 
from  the  accounts  transmitted  to  us,  his  perform- 
ance must  have  been  characterized  by  great  nobil- 
ity, breadth,  and  beauty  of  tone,  united  with  a fire 
and  agility  unknown  before  his  time.  Viotti  was 
one  of  the  first  to  use  the  Tourte  bow,  that  indis- 
pensable adjunct  to  the  perfect  manipulation  of 
the  violin.  The  value  of  this  advantage  over  his 
predecessors  can  not  be  too  highly  estimated. 

The  bows  used  before  the  time  of  Frangois 
Tourte,  who  lived  in  the  latter  years  of  the  last 
century  in  Paris,  were  of  imperfect  shape  and 
make.  The  Tourte  model  leaves  nothing  to  be 
desired  in  all  the  qualities  required  to  enable  the 
player  to  follow  out  every  conceivable  manner  of 
tone  and  movement — lightness,  firmness,  and  elas- 
ticity. Tartini  had  made  the  stick  of  his  bow 
elastic,  an  innovation  from  the  time  of  Corelli, 
and  had  thus  attained  a certain  flexibility  and 
brilliancy  in  his  bowing  superior  to  his  predeces- 
sors. But  the  full  development  of  all  the  powers 


VIOTTI. 


55 


of  the  violin,  or  the  practice  of  what  we  now  call 
virtuosoism  on  this  instrument,  was  only  possible 
with  the  modern  bow  as  designed  by  Tourte,  of 
Paris..  The  thin,  bent,  elastic  stick  of  the  bow, 
with  its  greater  length  of  sweep,  gives  the  modern 
player  incalculable  advantages  over  those  of  an 
earlier  age,  enabling  him  to  follow  out  the  slight- 
est gradations  of  tone  from  the  fullest  forte  to  the 
softest  piano,  to  mark  all  kinds  of  strong: and 
gentle  accents,  to  execute  staccato,  legato,  saltato, 
and  arpeggio  passages  with  the  greatest  ease  and 
certainty.  The  French  school  of  violin-playing 
did  not  at  first  avail  itself  of  these  advantages, 
and  even  Yiotti  and  Spohr  did  not  fully  grasp  the 
new  resources  of  execution.  It  was  left  for  Paga- 
nini to  open  a new  era  in  the  art.  His  daring  and 
subtile  genius  perceived  and  seized  the  wonderful 
resources  of  the  modern  bow  at  one  bound.  He 
used  freely  every  imaginable  movement  of  the 
bow,  and  developed  the  movement  of  the  wrist  to 
that  high  perfection  which  enabled  him  to  prac- 
tice all  kinds  of  bowing  with  celerity.  Without 
the  Tourte  bow,  Paganini  and  the  modern  school 
of  virtuosos,  which  has  followed  so  splendidly 
from  his  example,  would  have  been  impossible. 
To  many  of  our  readers  an  amplification  of  this 
topic  may  be  of  interest.  While  the  left  hand  of 
the  violin-player  fixes  the  tone,  and  thereby  does 
that  which  for  the  pianist  is  already  done  by  the 

mechanism  of  the  instrument,  and  while  the  cor- 
5 


56  TIIE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


rectness  of  his  intonation  depends  on  the  profi- 
ciency of  the  left  hand,  it  is  the  action  of  the 
right  hand,  the  bowing,  which,  analogous  to  the 
pianist’s  touch,  makes  the  sound  spring  into  life. 
It  is  through  the  medium  of  the  how  that  the 
iiiTfititeier  emb°dies  his  ideas  and  feelings.  It  is 
theilfore  evident  that  herein  rests  one  of  the 
most  important  and  difficult  elements  of  the  art 
1 #®riolin-playing,  and  that  the  excellence  of  a 
player,  or  even  of  a whole  school  of  playing,  de- 
pends to  a great  extent  on  its  method  of  bowing. 
It  would  have  been  even  better  for  the  art  of 
• violin-playing  as  practiced  to-day  that  the  per- 
fect instruments  of  Stradiuarius  and  Guarnerius 
should  not  have  been,  than  that  the  Tourte  bow 
should  have  been  uninvented. 

The  long,  effective  sweep  of  the  bow  was  one 
of  the  characteristics  of  Viotti’s  playing,  and  was 
alike  the  admiration  and  despair  of  his  rivals. 
His  compositions  for  the  violin  are  classics,  and 
Spohr  was  wont  to  say  that  there  could  be  no 
better  test  of  a fine  player  than  his  execution  of 
one  of  the  Viotti  sonatas  or  concertos.  Spohr  re- 
gretted deeply  that  he  could  not  finish  his  violin 
training  under  this  great  master,  and  was  wont 
to  speak  of  him  in  terms  of  the  greatest  admira- 
tion. Viotti  had  but  few  pupils,  but  among  them 
were  a number  of  highly  gifted  artists.  Rode, 
Robrechts,  Cartier,  Mdlle.  Gerbini,  Alday,  La- 
barre,  Pixis,  Mari,  Mme.  Paravicini,  and  Vacher 


VIOTTI. 


57 


are  well-known  names  to  all  those  interested  in  the 
literature  of  the  violin.  The  influence  of  Viotti 
on  violin  music  was  a very  deep  one,  not  only  in 
virtue  of  his  compositions,  but  in  the  fact  that  he 
molded  the  style  not  only  of  many  of  the  best 
violinists  of  his  own  day,  but  of  those  that  came 
after  him. 


LUDWIG  SPOHR. 


Birth  and  Early  Life  of  the  Violinist  Spohr. — He  is  presented 
with  his  First  Violin  at  six. — The  French  Emigre  Dufour  uses 
his  Influence  with  Dr.  Spohr,  Sr.,  to  have  the  Boy  devoted  to 
a Musical  Career. — Goes  to  Brunswick  for  fuller  Musical  In- 
struction.— Spohr  is  appointed  Kammer-musicus  at  the  Ducal 
Court. — He  enters  under  the  Tuition  of  and  makes  a Tour 
with  the  Violin  Virtuoso  Eck. — Incidents  of  the  Russian 
Journey  and  his  Return. — Concert  Tour  in  Germany. — Loses 
his  Fine  Guarnerius  Violin. — Is  appointed  Director  of  the  Or- 
chestra at  Gotha. — He  marries  Dorette  Schiedler,  the  Brilliant 
Harpist. — Spohr’s  Stratagem  to  be  present  at  the  Erfurt  Mu- 
sical Celebration  given  by  Napoleon  in  Honor  of  the  Allied 
Sovereigns. — Becomes  Director  of  Opera  in  Vienna. — Inci- 
dents of  his  Life  and  Production  of  Various  Works. — First 
Visit  to  England. — He  is  made  Director  of  the  Cassel  Court 
Oratorios. — He  is  retired  with  a Pension. — Closing  Years  of 
his  Life. — His  Place  as  Composer  and  Executant. 

I. 

“The  first  singer  on  the  violin  that  ever  ap- 
peared ! ” Such  was  the  verdict  of  the  enthusias- 
tic Italians  when  they  heard  one  of  the  greatest 
of  the  world’s  violinists,  who  was  also  a great 
composer.  The  modern  world  thinks  of  Spohr 
rather  as  the  composer  of  symphony,  opera,  and 
oratorio  than  as  a wonderful  executant  on  the 
violin  ; but  it  was  in  the  latter  capacity  that  he 
enjoyed  the  greatest  reputation  during  the  earlier 


LUDWIG  SPOIIR. 


59 


part  of  his  lifetime,  which  was  a long  one,  ex- 
tending from  the  year  1784  to  1859.  The  latter 
half  of  Spohr’s  life  was  mostly  devoted  to  the 
higher  musical  ambition  of  creating,  but  not  un- 
til he  had  established  himself  as  one  of  the  great- 
est of  virtuosos,  and  founded  a school  of  violin- 
playing which  is,  beyond  all  others,  the  most  sci- 
entific, exhaustive,  and  satisfactory.  All  of  the 
great  contemporary  violinists  are  disciples  of  the 
Spohr  school  of  execution.  Great  as  a composer, 
still  greater  as  a player,  and  widely  beloved  as  a 
man — there  are  only  a few  names  in  musical  art 
held  in  greater  esteem  than  his,  though  many 
have  evoked  a deeper  enthusiasm. 

Ludwig  Spohr  was  born  at  Brunswick,  April 
5,  1784,  of  parents  both  of  whom  possessed  no 
little  musical  talent.  His  father,  a physician  of 
considerable  eminence,  was  an  excellent  flutist, 
and  his  mother  possessed  remarkable  talent  both 
as  a pianist  and  singer.  To  the  family  concerts 
which  he  heard  at  home  was  the  rapid  develop- 
ment of  the  boy’s  talents  largely  due.  Nature 
had  given  him  a very  sensitive  ear  and  a fine  clear 
voice,  and  at  the  age  of  four  or  five  he  joined 
his  mother  in  duets  at  the  evening  gatherings. 
From  the  very  first  he  manifested  a taste  for  the 
instrument  for  which  he  was  destined  to  become 
distinguished.  He  so  teased  his  father  that,  at 
the  age  of  six,  he  was  presented  with  his  first 
violin,  and  his  joy  on  receiving  his  treasure  was 


60  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


overpowering.  The  violin  was  never  out  of  his 
hand,  and  he  continually  wandered  about  the 
house  trying  to  play  his  favorite  melodies.  Spohr 
tells  us  in  his  “ Autobiography  ” : “I  still  recollect 
that,  after  my  first  lesson,  in  which  I had  learned 
to  play  the  G-sharp  chord  upon  all  four  strings, 
in  my  rapture  at  the  harmony,  I hurried  to  my 
mother,  who  was  in  the  kitchen,  and  played  the 
chord  so  incessantly  that  she  was  obliged  to  order 
me  out.” 

Young  Spohr  was  placed  under  the  tuition  of 
Dufour,  a French  emigre  of  the  days  of  *91,  who 
was  an  excellent  player,  though  not  a professional, 
then  living  at  the  town  of  Seesen,  the  home  of 
the  Spohr  family ; and  under  him  the  hoy  made 
very  rapid  progress.  It  was  Dufour  who,  by  his 
enthusiastic  representations,  overcame  the  oppo- 
sition of  Ludwig’s  parents  to  the  boy’s  devoting 
himself  to  a life  of  music,  for  the  notion  of  the 
senior  Spohr  was  that  the  name  musician  was 
synonymous  with  that  of  a tavern  fiddler,  who 
played  for  dancers.  In  Germany,  the  land  par 
excellence  of  music,  there  was  a general  contempt 
among  the  educated  classes,  during  the  latter 
years  of  the  eighteenth  century,  for  the  musical 
profession.  Spohr  remained  under  the  care  of 
Dufour  until  he  was  twelve  years  old,  and  de- 
7oted  himself  to  his  work  with  great  sedulity. 
Though  he  as  yet  knew  but  little  of  counterpoint 
and  composition,  his  creative  talent  already  began 


LUDWIG  SPOHR. 


61 


to  assert  itself,  and  he  produced  several  duos  and 
trios,  as  well  as  solo  compositions,  which  evinced 
great  promise,  though  crude  and  faulty  in  the 
extreme.  He  was  then  sent  to  Brunswick,  that 
he  might  have  the  advantage  of  more  scientific 
instruction,  and  to  this  end  was  placed  under  the 
care  of  Kunisch,  an  excellent  violin  teacher,  and 
under  Hartung  for  harmony  and  counterpoint. 
The  latter  was  a sort  of  Dr.  Dryasdust,  learned, 
barren,  acrid,  but  an  efficient  instructor.  When 
young  Spohr  showed  him  one  of  his  compositions, 
he  growled  out,  “ There’s  time  enough  for  that ; 
you  must  learn  something  first.”  It  may  be  said 
of  Spohr,  however,  that  his  studies  in  theory  were 
for  the  most  part  self-taught,  for  he  was  a most 
diligent  student  of  the  great  masters,  and  was 
gifted  with  a keenly  analytic  mind. 

At  the  age  of  fourteen  young  Spohr  was  an 
effective  soloist,  and,  as  his  father  began  to  com- 
plain of  the  heavy  expense  of  his  musical  educa- 
tion, the  boy  determined  to  make  an  effort  for 
self-support.  After  revolving  many  schemes,  he 
conceived  the  notion  of  applying  to  the  duke, 
who  was  known  as  an  ardent  patron  of  music. 
He  managed  to  place  himself  in  the  way  of  his 
Serene  Highness,  while  the  latter  was  walking  in 
his  garden,  and  boldly  preferred  his  request  for 
an  appointment  in  the  court  orchestra.  The 
duke  was  pleased  to  favor  the  application,  and 
young  Spohr  was  permitted  to  display  his  skill  at 


62  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

a court  concert,  in  which  he  acquitted  himself  so 
admirably  as  to  secure  the  cordial  patronage  of 
the  sovereign.  Said  the  duke:  “ Be  industrious 
and  well  behaved,  and,  if  you  make  good  progress, 
I will  put  you  under  the  tuition  of  a great  mas- 
ter.” So  Louis  Spohr  was  installed  as  a Kammer- 
musicus , and  his  patron  fulfilled  his  promise  in 
1802  by  placing  his  protege  under  the  charge  of 
Francis  Eck,  one  of  the  finest  violinists  then  liv- 
ing. Under  the  tuition  of  this  accomplished  in- 
structor, the  young  virtuoso  made  such  rapid 
advance  in  the  excellence  of  his  technique,  that 
he  was  soon  regarded  as  worthy  of  accompany- 
ing his  master  on  a grand  concert  tour  through 
the  principal  cities  of  Germany  and  Russia. 

II. 

This  concert  expedition  of  the  two  violinists, 
as  narrated  in  Spohr’s  “Autobiography,”  was  full 
of  interesting  and  romantic  episodes.  Both  mas- 
ter and  pupil  were  of  amorous  and  susceptible 
temperaments,  and  their  affairs  were  rarely  regu- 
lated by  a common  sense  of  prudence.  Spohr 
relates  with  delightful  naivete  the  circumstances 
under  which  he  fell  successively  in  love,  and  the 
rapidity  with  which  he  recovered  from  these  fit- 
ful spasms  of  the  tender  passion.  Herr  Eck,  in 
addition  to  his  tendency  to  intrigues  with  the 
fairer  half  of  creation,  was  also  of  a quarrelsome 
and  exacting  disposition,  and  the  general  result 


LUDWIG  SPOIIR. 


63 


was  ceaseless  squabbling  with  authorities  and  musi- 
cal societies  in  nearly  every  city  they  visited.  In 
spite  of  these  drawbacks,  however,  the  two  violin- 
ists gained  both  in  fame  and  purse,  and  were  every- 
where well  received.  If  Herr  Eck  carried  off  the 
palm  over  the  boyish  Spohr  as  a mere  executant, 
the  impression  everywhere  gained  ground  that 
the  latter  was  by  far  the  superior  in  real  depth  of 
musical  science,  and  many  of  his  own  violin  con- 
certos were  received  with  the  heartiest  applause. 
The  concert  tour  came  to  an  end  at  St.  Peters- 
burg in  a singular  way.  Eck  fell  in  love  with  a 
daughter  of  a member  of  the  imperial  orchestra, 
but  the  idea  of  marriage  did  not  enter  into  his 
project.  As  the  young  lady  soon  felt  the  unfor- 
tunate results  of  her  indiscretion,  her  parents 
complained  to  the  Empress,  at  whose  instance 
Eck  was  given  the  choice  of  marrying  the  girl  or 
taking  an  enforced  journey  to  Siberia.  He  chose 
the  former,  and  determined  to  remain  in  St. 
Petersburg,  where  he  was  offered  the  first  violin 
of  the  imperial  orchestra.  Poor  Eck  found  he 
had  married  a shrew,  and,  between  matrimonial 
discords  and  ill  health  brought  on  by  years  of 
excess,  he  became  the  victim  of  a nervous  fever, 
which  resulted  in  lunacy  and  confinement  in  a 
mad-house. 

Spohr  returned  to  his  native  town  in  July, 
1803,  and  his  first  meeting  with  his  family  was  a 
curious  one.  “I  arrived,”  he  says,  “at  two 


64  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


o’clock  in  the  morning.  I landed  at  the  Petri 
gate,  crossed  the  Ocker  in  a boat,  and  hastened  to 
my  grandmother’s  garden,  but  found  that  the 
house  and  garden  doors  were  locked.  As  my 
knocking  didn’t  arouse  any  one,  I climbed  over 
the  garden  wall  and  laid  myself  down  in  a sum- 
mer-house at  the  end  of  the  garden.  Wearied 
by  the  long  journey,  I soon  fell  asleep,  and,  not- 
withstanding my  hard  couch,  would  probably 
have  slept  for  a long  while  had  not  my  aunts 
in  their  morning  walk  discovered  me.  Much 
alarmed,  they  ran  and  told  my  grandmother  that  a 
man  was  asleep  in  the  summer-house.  Returning 
together,  the  three  approached  nearer,  and,  recog- 
nizing me,  I was  awakened  amid  joyous  expres- 
sions, embraces,  and  kisses.  At  first,  I did  not 
recollect  where  I was,  but  soon  recognized  my 
dear  relations,  and  rejoiced  at  being  once  again 
in  the  home  and  scenes  of  my  childhood.” 

Spohr  was  most  graciously  received  by  the 
duke,  who  was  satisfied  with  the  proofs  of  indus- 
try and  ambition  shown  by  his  protege.  The  cel- 
ebrated Rode,  Yiotti’s  most  brilliant  pupil,  was  at 
that  time  in  Brunswick,  and  Spohr,  who  con- 
ceived the  most  enthusiastic  admiration  of  his 
style,  set  himself  assiduously  to  the  study  and 
imitation  of  the  effects  peculiar  to  Rode.  On 
Rode’s  departure,  Spohr  appeared  in  a concert 
arranged  for  him,  in  which  he  played  a new  con- 
certo dedicated  to  his  ducal  patron,  and  created 


LUDWIG  SPOIIR. 


65 


an  enthusiasm  hardly  less  than  that  made  by 
Rode  himself.  He  was  warmly  congratulated  by 
the  duke  and  the  court,  and  appointed  first  court- 
violinist,  with  a salary  more  than  sufficient  for 
the  musician’s  moderate  wants.  Shortly  after 
this  he  undertook  another  concert  tour  in  con- 
junction with  the  violoncellist,  Benike,  through 
the  principal  German  cities,  which  added  mate- 
rially to  his  reputation.  But  no  amount  of  world’s 
talk  or  money  could  fully  compensate  him  for  the 
loss  of  his  magnificent  violin,  one  of  the  chefs- 
d'oeuvre  of  Guarnerius  del  Gesu  when  that  great 
maker  was  at  his  best.  This  instrument  he  had 
brought  from  Russia,  and  it  was  an  imperial  gift. 
A concert  was  announced  for  Gottingen,  and 
Spohr,  with  his  companion,  was  about  to  enter 
the  town  by  coach,  when  he  asked  one  of  the  sol- 
diers at  the  guard-house  if  the  trunk,  which  had 
been  strapped  to  the  back  of  the  carriage,  and 
which  contained  his  precious  instrument,  was  in 
its  place.  “There  is  no  trunk  there,”  was  the 
reply. 

“ With  one  bound,”  says  Spohr,  “ I was  out  of 
the  carriage,  and  rushed  out  through  the  gate 
with  a drawn  hunting-knife.  Had  I,  with  -more 
reflection,  listened  a while,  I might  have  heard 
the  thieves  running  out  through  a side  path. 
But  in  my  blind  rage  I had  far  overshot  the  place 
where  I had  last  seen  the  trunk,  and  only  dis- 
covered my  overhaste  when  I found  myself  in  the 


66  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

open  field.  Inconsolable  for  my  loss,  I turned 
back.  While  my  fellow- traveler  looked  for  the  inn, 
I hastened  to  the  post-office,  and  requested  that 
an  immediate  search  might  be  made  in  the  gar- 
den houses  outside  the  gate.  With  astonishment 
and  vexation,  I was  informed  that  the  jurisdiction 
outside  the  gate  belonged  to  Weende,  and  that  I 
must  prefer  my  request  there.  As  Weende  was 
half  a league  from  Gottingen,  I was  compelled  to 
abandon  for  that  evening  all  further  steps  for  the 
recovery  of  my  things.  That  these  would  prove 
fruitless  on  the  following  morning  I was  well 
assured,  and  I passed  a sleepless  night  in  a state 
of  mind  such  as  in  my  hitherto  fortunate  career 
had  been  unknown  to  me.  Had  I not  lost  my 
splendid  Guarneri  violin,  the  exponent  of  all  the 
artistic  success  I had  so  far  attained,  I could  have 
lightly  borne  the  loss  of  clothes  and  money.” 
The  police  recovered  an  empty  trunk  and  the 
violin-case  despoiled  of  its  treasure,  but  still  con- 
taining a magnificent  Tourte  bow,  which  the 
thieves  had  left  behind.  Spohr  managed  to  bor- 
row a Steiner  violin,  with  which  he  gave  his  con- 
cert, but  he  did  not  for  years  cease  to  lament  the 
loss  of  his  grand  Guarneri  fiddle. 

In  1805  Spohr  was  quietly  settled  in  his  avo- 
cation at  Brunswick  as  composer  and  chief  Kam - 
mer-musicus  of  the  ducal  court,  when  he  received 
an  offer  to  compete  for  the  direction  of  the  orches- 
tra at  Gotha,  then  one  of  the  most  magnificent 


LUDWIG  SPOIIR. 


67 


organizations  in  Europe,  to  be  at  the  head  of 
which  would  give  him  an  international  fame. 
The  offer  was  too  tempting  to  be  refused,  and 
Spohr  was  easily  victorious.  His  new  duties  were 
not  onerous,  consisting  of  a concert  once  a week, 
and  in  practicing  and  rehearsing  the  orchestra. 
The  annual  salary  was  five  hundred  thalers. 

. — One  of  the  most  interesting  incidents  of  Spohr’s 
life  now  occurred.  The  susceptible  heart,  which 
had  often  been  touched,  was  firmly  enslaved  by 
the  charms  of  Dorette  Schiedler,  the  daughter  of 
the  principal  court  singer,  and  herself  a fine  vir- 
tuoso on  the  harp.  Dorette  was  a woman  whose 
personal  loveliness  was  an  harmonious  expression 
of  her  beauty  of  character  and  artistic  talent, 
and  Spohr  accepted  his  fate  with  joy.  This  girl 
of  eighteen  was  irresistible,  for  she  was  accom- 
plished, beautiful,  tender,  as  good  as  an  angel, 
and  with  the  finest  talent  for  music,  for  she  played 
admirably,  not  only  on  the  harp,  but  on  the  piano 
and  violin.  Spohr  had  reason  to  hope  that  the 
attachment  was  mutual,  and  was  eager  to  declare 
his  love.  One  night  they  were  playing  together 
at  a court  concert,  and  Spohr  after  the  perform- 
ance noticed  the  duchess,  with  an  arch  look  at 
him,  whispering  some  words  to  Dorette  which 
covered  her  cheeks  with  blushes.  That  night,  as 
the  lovers  were  returning  home  in  the  carriage, 
Spohr  said  to  her,  “ Shall  we  thus  play  together 
for  life  ? ” Dorette  burst  into  tears,  and  sank 


68  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

into  her  lover’s  arms.  The  compact  was  sealed 
by  the  joyous  assent  of  the  mother,  and  the 
young  couple  were  united  in  the  ducal  chapel,  in 
the  presence  of  the  duchess  and  a large  assem- 
blage of  friends,  on  the  2d  of  February,  1806. 

III. 

In  the  following  year  Spohr  and  his  young 
wife  set  out  on  a musical  tour,  “by  which,”  he 
says,  “we  not  only  reaped  a rich  harvest  of  ap- 
plause, but  saved  a considerable  sum  of  money.  ” 
On  his  return  to  Gotha  he  was  met  by  a band  of 
pupils,  who  unharnessed  the  horses  from  the 
coach  and  drew  him  through  the  streets  in  tri- 
umph. He  now  devoted  himself  to  composition 
largely,  and  produced  his  first  opera,  “Alruna,” 
which  is  said  to  have  been  very  warmly  received, 
both  at  Gotha  and  Weimar,  in  which  latter  city  it 
was  produced  under  the  superintendence  of  the 
poet  Goethe,  who  was  intendant  of  the  theatre. 
Spohr,  however,  allowed  it  to  disappear,  as  his 
riper  judgment  condemned  its  faults  more  than 
it  favored  its  excellences.  Among  his  amusing 
adventures,  one  which  he  relates  in  his  “Autobi- 
ography ” as  having  occurred  in  1808  is  worth 
repeating.  He  tells  us  : “ In  the  year  1808  took 
place  the  celebrated  Congress  of  Sovereigns  at 
Erfurt,  on  which  occasion  Napoleon  entertained 
his  friend  Alexander  of  Russia  and  the  various 
kings  and  princes  of  Germany.  The  lovers  of 


LUDWIG  SPOHR. 


69 


sights  and  the  curious  of  the  whole  country 
round  poured  in  to  see  the  magnificence  dis- 
played. In  the  company  of  some  of  my  pupils, 
I made  a pedestrian  excursion  to  Erfurt,  less  to 
see  the  great  ones  of  the  earth  than  to  see  and 
admire  the  great  ones  of  the  French  stage,  Talma 
and  Mars.  The  Emperor  had  sent  to  Paris  for 
his  tragic  performers,  who  played  every  evening 
in  the  classic  works  of  Corneille  and  Kacine.  I 
and  my  companions  had  hoped  to  have  seen  one 
such  representation,  but  unfortunately  I was  in- 
formed that  they  took  place  for  the  sovereigns 
and  their  suites  alone,  and  that  everybody  else  was 
excluded  from  them.’’  In  this  dilemma  Spohr 
had  recourse  to  stratagem.  He  persuaded  four 
musicians  of  the  orchestra  to  vacate  their  places 
for  a handsome  consideration,  and  he  and  his 
pupils  engaged  to  fill  the  duties.  But  one  of  the 
substitutes  must  needs  be  a horn-player,  and  the 
four  new  players  could  only  perform  on  violin 
and  ’cello.  So  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but 
for  Spohr  to  master  the  French  horn  at  a day’s 
notice.  At  the  expense  of  swollen  and  painful 
lips,  he  managed  this  sufficiently  to  play  the  mu- 
sic required  with  ease  and  precision.  “ Thus  pre- 
pared,” he  writes,  “I  and  my  pupils  joined  the 
other  musicians,  and,  as  each  carried  his  instru- 
ment under  his  arm,  we  reached  our  place  with- 
out opposition.  We  found  the  saloon  in  which  the 
theatre  had  been  erected  already  brilliantly  lit  up 


70  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


and  filled  with  the  numerous  suites  of  the  sover- 
eigns. The  seats  for  Napoleon  and  his  guests 
were  right  behind  the  orchestra.  Shortly  after, 
the  most  able  of  my  pupils,  to  whom  I had  as- 
signed the  direction  of  the  music,  and  under 
whose  leadership  I had  placed  myself  as  a new- 
fledged  hornist,  had  tuned  up  the  orchestra, 
the  high  personages  made  their  appearance,  and 
the  overture  began.  The  orchestra,  with  their 
faces  turned  to  the  stage,  stood  in  a long  row, 
and  each  was  strictly  forbidden  to  turn  around 
and  look  with  curiosity  at  the  sovereigns.  As  I 
had  received  notice  of  this  beforehand,  I had  pro- 
vided myself  secretly  with  a small  looking-glass, 
by  the  help  of  which,  as  soon  as  the  music  was 
ended,  I was  enabled  to  obtain  in  succession  a 
good  view  of  those  who  directed  the  destinies  of 
Europe.  Nevertheless,  I was  soon  so  engrossed 
with  the  magnificent  acting  of  the  tragic  artists 
that  I abandoned  my  mirror  to  my  pupils,  and 
directed  my  whole  attention  to  the  stage.  But 
at  every  succeeding  entr’acte  the  pain  of  my  lips 
increased,  and  at  the  close  of  the  performance 
they  had  become  so  much  swollen  and  blistered 
that  in  the  evening  I could  scarcely  eat  any  sup- 
per. Even  the  next  day,  on  my  return  to  Gotha, 
my  lips  had  a very  negro-like  appearance,  and  my 
young  wife  was  not  a little  alarmed  when  she  saw 
me.  But  she  was  yet  more  nettled  when  I told 
her  that  it  was  from  kissing  to  such  excess  the 


LUDWIG  SPOHR. 


71 


pretty  Erfurt  women.  When  I had  related,  how- 
ever, the  history  of  my  lessons  on  the  horn,  she 
laughed  heartily  at  my  expense.” 

In  October,  1809,  Spohr  and  his  wife  started 
on  an  art  journey  to  Russia,  but  they  were  re 
called  by  the  court  chamberlain,  who  said  that 
the  duchess  could  not  spare  them  from  the  court 
concerts,  but  would  liberally  indemnify  them  for 
the  loss.  Spohr  returned  and  remained  at  home 
for  nearly  three  years,  during  which  time  he  com- 
posed a number  of  important  works  for  orchestra 
and  for  the  violin.  In  1812  a visit  to  Vienna,  dur- 
ing which  he  gave  a series  of  concerts,  so  delighted 
the  Viennese  that  Spohr  was  offered  the  direction 
of  the  Ander  Wien  theatre  at  a salary  three  times 
that  received  at  Gotha,  besides  valuable  emolu- 
ments. This,  and  the  assurance  of  Count  Palffy, 
the  imperial  intendant,  that  he  meant  to  make  the 
orchestra  the  finest  in  Europe,  induced  Spohr  to 
accept  the  offer. 

When  it  became  necessary  for  our  musician  to 
search  for  a domicile  in  Vienna,  he  met  with  an- 
other piece  of  good  fortune.  One  morning  a gen- 
tleman waited  on  him,  introducing  himself  as  a 
wealthy  cloek  manufacturer  and  a passionate  lover 
of  music.  The  stranger  made  an  eccentric  propo- 
sition. Spohr  should  hand  over  to  him  all  that 
he  should  compose  or  had  composed  for  Vienna 
during  the  term  of  three  years,  the  original  scores 
to  be  his  sole  property  during  that  time,  and 
6 


72  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

Spohr  not  even  to  retain  a copy.  “ But  are  they 
not  to  be  performed  during  that  time  ?”  “ Oh, 

yes  ! as  often  as  possible  ; but  each  time  on  my 
lending  them  for  that  purpose,  and  when  I can 
be  present  myself.”  The  bargain  was  struck,  and 
the  ardent  connoisseur  agreed  to  pay  thirty  ducats 
for  a string  quartet,  five  and  thirty  for  a quin- 
tet, forty  for  a sextet,  etc.,  according  to  the 
style  of  composition.  Two  works  were  sold  on 
the  spot,  and  Spohr  said  he  should  devote  the 
money  to  house-furnishing.  Herr  Yon  Tost  un- 
dertook to  provide  the  furniture  complete,  and 
the  two  made  a tour  among  the  most  fashionable 
shops.  When  Spohr  protested  against  purchasing 
articles  of  extreme  beauty  and  luxury,  Von  Tost 
said,  “ Make  yourself  easy,  I shall  require  no  cash 
settlement.  You  will  soon  square  all  accounts 
with  your  manuscripts.”  So  the  Spohr  domicile 
was  magnificently  furnished  from  kitchen  to  at- 
tic, more  fitly,  as  the  musician  said,  for  a royal 
dignitary  or  a rich  merchant  than  for  a poor  ar- 
tist. Yon  Tost  claimed  he  would  gain  two  re- 
sults : “ First,  I wish  to  be  invited  to  all  the  con- 
certs and  musical  circles  in  which  you  will  play 
your  compositions,  and  to  do  this  I must  have 
your  scores  in  my  possession  ; secondly,  in  possess- 
ing such  treasures  of  art,  I hope  upon  my  business 
journeys  to  make  a large  acquaintance  among  the 
lovers  of  music,  which  I may  turn  to  account  in 
my  manufacturing  interests.”  Let  us  hope  that 


LUDWIG  SPOHR. 


73 


this  commercial  enthusiast  found  his  calcula- 
tions verified  by  results. 

Spohr  soon  gave  two  important  new  works  to 
the  musical  world,  the  opera  of  “Faust,” and  the 
cantata,  “The  Liberation  of  Germany,”  neither 
of  which,  however,  was  immediately  produced. 
Weber  brought  out  “ Faust”  at  Prague  in  1816, 
and  the  cantata  was  first  performed  at  Franken- 
hausen  in  1815,  at  a musical  festival  on  the  anni- 
versary of  the  battle  of  Leipsic,  a battle  which 
turned  the  scale  of  Napoleon’s  career.  The  same 
year  (1815)  also  witnessed  the  quarrel  between 
Spohr  and  Count  Palffy,  which  resulted  in  the 
rupture  of  the  former’s  engagement.  Spohr  de- 
termined to  make  a long  tour  through  Germany, 
Switzerland,  and  Italy.  Before  shaking  the  dust 
of  Vienna  from  his  feet,  he  sold  the  Von  Tost 
household  at  auction,  and  the  sum  realized  was 
even  larger  than  what  had  been  paid  for  it,  so 
vivid  were  the  public  curiosity  and  interest  in  view 
of  the  strange  bargain  under  which  the  furni- 
ture had  been  bought.  On  the  18th  of  March, 
1815,  Louis  Spohr,  with  his  beloved  Dorette  and 
young  family,  which  had  increased  with  truly 
German  fecundity,  bade  farewell  to  Vienna. 

Two  years  of  concert-giving  and  sight-seeing 
swiftly  passed,  to  the  great  augmentation  of  the 
German  violinist’s  fame.  On  Spohr’s  return  home 
he  was  invited  to  become  the  opera  and  music 
director  of  the  Frankfort  Theatre,  and  for  two 


74  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

years  more  he  labored  arduously  at  this  post. 
He  produced  the  opera  of  “Zemire  and  Azar” 
(founded  on  the  fairy  fable  of  “ Beauty  and  the 
Beast  ” ) during  this  period  among  other  works, 
and  it  was  very  enthusiastically  received  by  the 
public.  This  opera  was  afterward  given  in  Lon- 
don, in  English,  with  great  success,  though  the 
opinion  of  the  critics  was  that  it  was  too  scientific 
for  the  English  taste. 

IV. 

Louis  Spohr’s  first  visit  to  England  was  in 
1820,  whither  he  went  on  invitation  of  the  Phil- 
harmonic Society.  He  gives  an  amusing  account 
of  his  first  day  in  London,  on  the  streets  of  which 
city  he  appeared  in  a most  brilliantly  colored 
shawl  waistcoat,  and  narrowly  escaped  being  pelted 
by  the  enraged  mob,  for  the  English  people 
were  then  in  mourning  for  the  death  of  George 
III,  which  had  recently  occurred,  and  Spohr’s  gay 
attire  was  construed  as  a public  insult.  He  played 
several  of  his  own  works  at  the  opening  Philhar- 
monic concert,  and  the  brilliant  veteran  of  the 
violin,  Yiotti,  to  become  whose  pupil  had  once 
been  Spohr’s  darling  but  ungratified  dream,  ex- 
pressed the  greatest  admiration  of  the  German 
virtuoso’s  magnificent  playing.  The  “ Autobi- 
ography ” relates  an  amusing  interview  of  Spohr 
with  the  head  of  the  Rothschild’s  banking  estab- 
lishment, to  whom  he  had  brought  a letter  of 


LUDWIG  SPOHR. 


75 


introduction  from  the  Frankfort  Rothschild,  as 
well  as  a letter  of  credit.  “ After  Rothschild  had 
taken  both  letters  from  me  and  glanced  hastily 
over  them,  he  said  to  me,  in  a subdued  tone  of 
voice,  ‘ 1 have  just  read  (pointing  to  the  “ Times  ”) 
that  you  manage  your  business  very  efficiently  ; 
but  I understand  nothing  of  music.  This  is  my 
music  (slapping  his  purse) ; they  understand  that 
on  the  exchange/  Upon  which  with  a nod  of  the 
head  he  terminated  the  audience.  But  just  as  I 
had  reached  the  door  he  called  after  me,  ‘ You  can 
come  out  and  dine  with  me  at  my  country  house/ 
A few  days  afterward  Mme.  Rothschild  also  in- 
vited me  to  dinner,  but  I did  not  go,  though  she 
repeated  the  invitation.'’ 

While  in  London  on  this  visit  Spohr  com- 
posed his  B flat  Symphony,  which  was  given  by 
the  Philharmonic  Society  under  the  direction  of 
the  composer  himself,  and,  as  he  tells  us  in  his 
“Autobiography,”  it  was  played  better  than  he 
ever  heard  it  afterward.  His  English  reception,  on 
the  whole,  was  a very  cordial  one,  and  he  secured  a 
very  high  place  in  public  estimation,  both  as  a 
violinist  and  orchestral  composer.  On  returning 
to  Germany,  Spohr  gave  a series  of  concerts,  dur- 
ing which  time  he  produced  his  great  D minor 
violin  concerto,  making  a great  sensation  with  it. 
He  had  not  yet  visited  Paris  in  a professional  way, 
and  in  the  winter  of  1821  he  turned  his  steps 
thitherward,  in  answer  to  a pressing  invitation 


76  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

from  the  musicians  of  that  great  capital.  On 
January  20th  he  made  his  debut  before  a French 
audience,  and  gave  a programme  mostly  of  his 
own  compositions.  Spohr  asserts  that  the  satisfac- 
tion of  the  audience  was  enthusiastically  ex- 
pressed, but  the  fact  that  he  did  not  repeat  the 
entertainment  would  suggest  a suspicion  that  the 
impression  he  made  was  not  fully  to  his  liking. 
It  may  be  he  did  not  dare  take  the  risk  in  a city 
so  full  of  musical  attractions  of  every  description. 
Certainly  he  did  not  like  the  French,  though  his 
reception  from  the  artists  and  literati  was  of  the 
most  friendly  sort.  He  was  disgusted  “ with  the 
ridiculous  vanity  of  the  Parisians.”  He  writes : 
“ When  one  or  other  of  their  musicians  plays  any- 
thing, they  say,  ( Well  ! can  you  boast  of  that  in 
Germany  ? ’ Or  when  they  introduce  to  you  one 
of  their  distinguished  artists,  they  do  not  call 
him  the  first  in  Paris,  but  at  once  the  first  in  the 
world,  although  no  nation  knows  less  what  other 
countries  possess  than  they  do,  in  their — for  their 
vanity’s  sake  most  fortunate — ignorance.” 

Spohr’s  appointment  to  the  directorship  of  the 
court  theatre  at  Cassel  occurred  in  the  winter  of 
1822,  and  he  confesses  his  pleasure  in  the  post,  as 
he  believed  he  could  make  its  fine  orchestra  one 
of  the  most  celebrated  in  Germany.  He  remained 
in  this  position  for  about  thirty  years,  and  during 
that  time  Cassel  became  one  of  the  greatest  musi- 
cal centers  of  the  country.  His  labors  were  assidu- 


LUDWIG  SPOHR. 


77 


ous,  for  he  had  the  true  tireless  German  industry, 
and  he  soon  gave  the  world  his  opera  of  “ Jesson- 
da,”  which  was  first  produced  on  July  28,  1823, 
with  marked  success.  “Jessonda”  has  always 
kept  its  hold  on  the  German  stage,  though  it  was 
not  received  with  much  favor  elsewhere.  Another 
opera,  “Der  BergGeist”  (“The  Mountain  Spir- 
it”), quickly  followed,  the  work  having  been  writ- 
ten to  celebrate  the  marriage  of  the  Princess  of 
Hesse  with  the  Duke  of  Saxe-Meiningen.  One 
of  his  most  celebrated  compositions,  the  oratorio 
“Die  Letzten  Dinge”  (“The  Last  Judgment”), 
which  is  more  familiar  to  English-speaking  peo- 
ples than  any  other  work  of  Spohr,  was  first  per- 
formed on  Good  Friday,  1826,  and  was  recognized 
from  the  first  as  a production  of  masterly  excel- 
lence. Spohr’s  ability  as  a composer  of  sacred 
music  would  have  been  more  distinctly  accepted, 
had  it  not  been  that  Handel,  Haydn,  and,  in  more 
recent  years,  Mendelssohn,  raised  the  ideal  of  the 
oratorio  so  high  that  only  the  very  loftiest  musi- 
cal genius  is  considered  fit  to  reign  in  this  sphere. 

The  director  of  the  Cassel  theatre  continued 
indefatigable  in  producing  works  of  greater  or 
less  excellence,  chamber-music,  symphonies,  and 
operas.  Among  the  latter,  attention  may  be 
called  to  “Pietro  Albano”  and  the  “Alchemist,” 
clever  but  in  no  sense  brilliant  works,  though, 
as  it  became  the  fashion  in  Germany  to  indulge 
in  enthusiasm  over  Spohr,  they  were  warmly 


78  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

praised  at  home.  The  best  known  of  his  orches- 
tral works,  “Die  Weihe  der  Tone”  (“The Power 
of  Sound  ”),  a symphony  of  unquestionable  great- 
ness, was  produced  in  1832.  We  are  told  that 
Spohr  had  been  reading  a volume  of  poems  which 
his  deceased  friend  Pfeiffer  had  left  behind  him, 
when  he  alighted  on  “Die  Weihe  der  Tone,”  and 
the  words  delighted  him  so  much  that  he  thought 
of  using  them  as  the  basis  of  a cantata.  But  he 
changed  his  purpose,  and  finally  decided  to  deline- 
ate the  subject  of  the  poem  in  orchestral  composi- 
tion. The  finest  of  all  Spohr’s  symphonies  was 
the  outcome,  a work  which  ranks  high  among 
compositions  of  this  class.  His  toil  on  the  new 
oratorio  of  “Calvary”  was  sadly  interrupted  by 
the  death  of  his  beloved  wife  Dorette,  who  had 
borne  him  a large  family,  and  had  been  his  most 
sympathetic  and  devoted  companion.  Spohr  was 
so  broken  down  by  this  calamity  that  it  was  sev- 
eral months  before  he  could  resume  his  labors,  and 
it  was  because  Dorette  during  her  illness  had  felt 
such  a deep  interest  in  the  progress  of  the  work 
that  the  desolate  husband  so  soon  plucked  heart  to 
begin  again.  When  the  oratorio  was  produced 
on  Good  Friday,  1835,  Spohr  records  in  his  diary  : 
“ The  thought  that  my  wife  did  not  live  to  listen 
to  its  first  performance  sensibly  lessened  the  satis- 
faction I felt  at  this  my  most  successful  work.” 
This  oratorio  was  not  given  in  England  till  1839, 
at  the  Norwich  festival,  Spohr  being  present  to 


LUDWIG  SPOIIR. 


79 


conduct  it.  The  zealous  and  narrow-minded 
clergy  of  the  day  preached  bitterly  against  it  as  a 
desecration,  and  one  fierce  bigot  hurled  his  dia- 
tribes against  the  composer,  when  the  latter  was 
present  in  the  cathedral.  A journal  of  the  day 
describes  the  scene  : “We  now  see  the  fanatical 
zealot  in  the  pulpit,  and  sitting  right  opposite  to 
him  the  great  composer,  with  ears  happily  deaf 
to  the  English  tongue,  but  with  a demeanor  so 
becoming,  with  a look  so  full  of  pure  good-will, 
and  with  so  much  humility  and  mildness  in  the 
features,  that  his  countenance  alone  spoke  to  the 
heart  like  a good  sermon.  Without  intending  it, 
we  make  a comparison,  and  can  not  for  a moment 
doubt  in  which  of  the  two  dwelt  the  spirit  of  re- 
ligion which  denoted  the  true  Christian.  ” 

Spohr  had  been  two  years  a widower  when  he 
became  enamored  of  one  of  the  daughters  of  Court 
Councilor  Pfeiffer.  He  tells  us  he  had  long  been 
acquainted  “ with  the  high  and  varied  intellectual 
culture  of  the  two  sisters,  and  so  I became  fully 
resolved  to  sue  for  the  hand  of  the  elder,  Mari- 
anne, whose  knowledge  of  music  and  skill  in  piano- 
forte playing  I had  already  observed  when  she 
sometimes  gave  her  assistance  at  the  concerts  of 
the  St.  Cecilia  Society.  As  I had  not  the  courage 
to  propose  to  her  by  word  of  mouth,  there  being 
more  than  twenty  years  difference  in  our  ages,  I 
put  the  question  to  her  in  writing,  and  added,  in 
excuse  for  my  courtship,  the  assurance  that  I was 


80  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

as  yet  perfectly  free  from  the  infirmities  of  age.” 
The  proposition  was  accepted,  and  they  were  mar- 
ried without  delay  on  January  3,  1836.  The 
bridal  couple  made  a long  journey  through  the 
principal  German  cities,  and  were  universally  re- 
ceived with  great  rejoicings.  Musical  parties  and 
banquets  were  everywhere  arranged  for  them,  at 
which  Spohr  and  his  young  wife  delighted  every 
one  by  their  splendid  playing.  The  “Histori- 
cal ” symphony,  descriptive  of  the  music  and 
characteristics  of  different  periods,  was  finished  in 
1839,  and  made  a very  favorable  impression  both 
in  Germany  and  England.  Spohr  had  now  be- 
come quite  at  home  in  England,  where  his  music 
was  much  liked,  and  during  different  years  went 
to  the  country,  where  oratorio  music  is  more  ap- 
preciated than  anywhere  else  in  the  musical 
world,  to  conduct  the  Norwich  festival.  One  of 
his  most  successful  compositions  of  this  descrip- 
tion, “ The  Fall  of  Babylon,”  was  written  ex- 
pressly for  the  festival  of  1842.  When  it  was 
given  the  next  year  in  London  under  Spohr’s  own 
direction,  the  president  of  the  Sacred  Harmonic 
Society  presented  the  composer  at  the  close  of  the 
performance  with  a superb  silver  testimonial  in 
the  name  of  the  society. 

V. 

Louis  Spohr  had  now  become  one  of  the  pa- 
triarchs of  music,  for  his  life  spanned  a longer 


LUDWIG  SPOIIR. 


81 


arcli  in  the  history  of  the  art  than  any  contempo- 
rary except  Cherubini.  He  was  seven  years  old 
when  Mozart  died,  and  before  Haydn  had  departed 
from  this  life  Spohr  had  already  begun  to  acquire 
a name  as  a violinist  and  composer.  He  lived  to 
be  the  friend  of  Mendelssohn,  Meyerbeer,  Liszt, 
and  Wagner.  Everywhere  he  was  held  in  vener- 
ation, even  by  those  who  did  not  fully  sympathize 
with  his  musical  works,  for  his  career  had  been 
one  of  great  fecundity  in  art.  In  addition  to  his 
rank  as  one  of  the  few  very  great  violin  virtuosos, 
he  had  been  indefatigable  in  the  production  of 
compositions  in  nearly  all  styles,  and  every  coun- 
try of  Europe  recognized  his  place  as  a musician 
of  supereminent  talent,  if  not  of  genius,  one  who 
had  profoundly  influenced  contemporary  music, 
even  if  he  should  not  mold  the  art  of  succeeding 
ages.  Testimonials  of  admiration  and  respect 
poured  in  on  him  from  every  quarter. 

He  composed  the  opera  of  “ The  Crusaders55 
in  1845,  and  he  was  invited  to  conduct  the  first 
performance  in  Berlin.  He  relates  two  pleasing 
incidents  in  his  “Autobiography.”  He  had  been 
invited  to  a select  dinner  party  given  at  the  royal 
palace,  and  between  the  king  and  Spohr,  who 
was  seated  opposite,  there  intervened  an  orna- 
mental centerpiece  of  considerable  height  in  the 
shape  of  a flower  vase.  This  greatly  interfered 
with  the  enjoyment  by  the  king  of  Spohr’s  con- 
versation. At  last  his  Majesty,  growing  impa- 


82  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

tient,  removed  the  impediment  with  his  own 
hands,  so  that  he  had  a full  view  of  Spohr. 

The  other  incident  was  a pleasing  surprise 
from  his  colleagues  in  art.  He  was  a guest  of 
the  Wickmann  family,  and  they  were  all  gath- 
ered in  the  illuminated  garden  saloon,  when  there 
entered  through  the  gloom  of  the  garden  a num- 
ber of  dark  figures  swiftly  following  each  other, 
who  proved  to  be  the  members  of  the  royal  or- 
chestra, with  Meyerbeer  and  Taubert  at  their 
head.  The  senior  member  then  presented  Spohr 
with  a beautifully  executed  gold  laurel-wreath, 
while  Meyerbeer  made  a speech  full  of  feeling,  in 
which  he  thanked  him  for  his  enthusiastic  love 
of  German  art,  and  for  all  the  grand  and  beautiful 
works  which  he  had  created,  specially  “The  Cru- 
saders.” The  twenty- fifth  anniversary  of  Spohr’s 
connection  with  the  court  theatre  of  Cassel  oc- 
curred in  1847,  and  was  to  have  been  celebrated 
with  a great  festival.  The  death  of  Felix  Bar- 
th oldy  Mendelssohn  cast  a great  gloom  over  musi- 
cal Germany  that  year,  so  the  festival  was  held  not 
in  honor  of  Spohr,  but  as  a solemn  memorial  of 
the  departed  genius  whose  name  is  a household 
word  among  all  those  who  love  the  art  he  so 
splendidly  illustrated. 

Spohr’s  next  production  was  the  fine  sym- 
phony known  as  “The  Seasons,”  one  of  the 
most  picturesque  and  expressive  of  his  orchestral 
works,  in  wrhich  he  depicts  with  rich  musical 


LUDWIG  SPOIIR. 


83 


color  the  vicissitudes  of  the  year  and  the  associa- 
tions clustering  around  them.  This  symphony  was 
followed  by  his  seventh  quintet,  in  G minor,  an- 
other string  quartet,  the  thirty-second,  and  a series 
of  pieces  for  the  violin  and  piano,  and  in  1852 
we  find  the  indefatigable  composer  busy  in  re- 
modeling his  opera  of  “ Faust 55  for  production 
by  Mr.  Gye,  in  London.  It  was  produced  with 
great  splendor  in  the  English  capital,  and  con- 
ducted by  Spohr  himself ; but  it  did  not  prove  a 
great  success,  a deep  disappointment  to  Spohr, 
who  fondly  believed  this  work  to  be  his  master- 
piece. “ On  this  occasion/’  writes  a very  com- 
petent critic,  a propos  of  the  first  performance, 
“ there  was  a certain  amount  of  heaviness  about 
the  performance  which  told  very  much  against 
the  probability  of  that  opera  ever  becoming  a fa- 
vorite with  the  Eoyal  Italian  Opera  subscribers. 
Nothing  could  possibly  exceed  the  poetical  grace 
of  Bonconi  in  the  title  role,  or  surpass  the  pro- 
priety and  expression  of  his  singing.  Mme.  Cas- 
tellan’s Cunegonda  was  also  exceedingly  well  sung, 
and  Tamberlik  outdid  himself  by  his  thorough 
comprehension  of  the  music,  the  splendor  of  his 
voice,  and  the  refinement  of  his  vocalization  in 
the  character  of  Ugo.  . . . The  Meplnstopheles 
of  Herr  Formes  was  a remarkable  personation, 
being  truly  demoniacal  in  the  play  of  his  counte- 
nance, and  as  characteristic  as  any  one  of  Eetsch’s 
drawings  of  Goethe’s  fiend-tempter.  His  singing 


84  the  GRExVT  violinists  and  FUNISTS. 


being  specially  German  was  in  every  way  well 
suited  to  the  occasion.”  In  spite  of  the  excel- 
lence of  the  interpretation,  Spohr s “Faust”  did 
not  take  any  hold  on  the  lovers  of  music  in  Eng- 
land, and  even  in  Germany,  where  Spohr  is  held 
in  great  reverence,  it  presents  but  little  attraction. 

The  closing  years  of  Spohr’s  active  life  as  a 
musician  were  devoted  to  that  species  of  compo- 
sition where  he  showed  indubitable  title  to  be 
considered  a man  of  genius,  works  for  the  violin 
and  chamber  music.  He  himself  did  not  recog- 
nize his  decadence  of  energy  and  musical  vigor  ; 
but  the  veteran  was  more  than  seventy  years  old, 
and  his  royal  master  resolved  to  put  his  baton  in 
younger  and  fresher  hands.  So  he  was  retired 
from  service  with  an  annual  pension  of  fifteen 
hundred  thalers.  Spohr  felt  this  deeply,  but  he 
had  scarcely  reconciled  himself  to  the  change  when 
a more  serious  casualty  befell  him.  He  fell  and 
broke  his  left  arm,  which  never  gained  enough 
strength  for  him  to  hold  the  beloved  instrument 
again.  It  had  been  the  great  joy  and  solace  of  his 
life  to  play,  and,  now  that  in  his  old  age  he  was 
deprived  of  this  comfort,  he  was  ready  to  die. 
Only  once  more  did  he  make  a public  appearance. 
In  the  spring  of  1859  he  journeyed  to  Meiningen 
to  direct  a concert  on  behalf  of  a charitable  fund. 
An  ovation  was  given  to  the  aged  master.  A colos- 
sal bust  of  himself  was  placed  on  the  stage,  arched 
with  festoons  of  palm  and  laurel,  and  the  con- 


LUDWIG  SPOHR. 


85 


ductor’s  stand  was  almost  buried  in  flowers.  He 
was  received  with  thunders  of  welcome,  which 
were  again  and  again  reiterated,  and  at  the  close 
of  the  performance  he  could  hardly  escape  for 
the  eager  throng  who  wished  to  press  his  hand. 
Spohr  died  on  October  22,  1859,  after  a few  days’ 
illness,  and  in  his  death  Germany  at  least  recog- 
nized the  loss  of  one  of  its  most  accomplished  and 
versatile  if  not  greatest  composers. 

VI. 

CDr.  Ludwig  Spohr’s  fame  as  a composer  has 
far  overshadowed  his  reputation  as  a violin  vir- 
tuoso^ but  the  most  capable  musical  critics  unite 
in  the  opinion  that  that  rare  quality,  which  we 
denominate  genius,  was  principally  shown  in  his 
wonderful  power  as  a player,  and  his  works  writ- 
ten for  the  violin.  Spohr  was  a man  of  immense 
self-assertion,  and  believed  in  the  greatness  of  his 
own  musical  genius  as  a composer  in  the  higher 
domain  of  his  art.  His  “Autobiography,”  one 
of  the  most  fresh,  racy,  and  interesting  works  of 
the  kind  ever  written,  is  full  of  varied  illustra- 
tions of  what  Chorley  stigmatizes  his  “bovine 
self-conceit.”  His  fecund  production  of  sym- 
phony, oratorio,  and  opera,  as  well  as  of  the  more 
elaborate  forms  of  chamber  music,  for  a period  of 
forty  years  or  more,  proves  how  deep  was  his  con- 
viction of  his  own  powers.  Indeed,  he  half  con- 
fesses himself  that  he  is  only  willing  to  be  rated 


86  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


a little  less  than  Beethoven.  |Spohr  was  singu- 
larly meager,  for  the  most  part,  in  musical  ideas 
and  freshness  of  melody,  but  he  was  a profound 
master  of  the  orchestra  ;|  and  in  that  variety  and 
richness  of  resources  which  give  to  tone-creations 
the  splendor  of  color,  which  is  one  of  the  great 
charms  of  instrumental  music,  Spohr  is  inferior 
only  to  Wagner  among  modern  symphonists. 
Spohr’s  more  pretentious  works  are  a singular 
union  of  meagerness  of  idea  with  the  most  pol- 
ished richness  of  manner ; but,  in  imagination  and 
thought,  he  is  far  the  inferior  of  those  whose 
knowledge  of  treating  the  orchestra  and  contra- 
puntal skill  could  not  compare  with  his.  There 
are  more  vigor  and  originality  in  one  of  Schu- 
bert’s greater  symphonies  than  in  all  the  multi- 
tudinous works  of  the  same  class  ever  written  by 
Spohr.  I In  Spohr’s  compositions  for  the  violin 
as  a solo  instrument,  however,  he  stands  unri- 
valed,1 for  here  his  true  genre  as  a man  of  crea- 
tive genius  stamps  itself  unmistakably. 

T Before  the  coming  of  Spohr  violin  music  had 
been  illustrated  by  a succession  of  virtuosos^} 
French  and  Italian,  who,  though  melodiously 
charming,  planned  in  their  works  and  execution 
to  exhibit  the  effects  and  graces  of  the  players 
themselves  instead  of  the  instrument.  Paganini 
carried  this  tendency  to  its  most  remarkable  and 
fascinating  extreme,  [but  Spohr  founded  a new 
style  of  violin  playing,  on  which  the  greatest 


LUDWIG  SPOIIR. 


V 


87 


modern  performers  who  have  grown  up  since  his 
prime  have  assiduously  modeled  themselves^  Mo- 
zart had  written  solid  and  simple  concertos  in 
which  the  performer  was  expected  to  embroider 
and  finish  the  composer’s  sketch.  This  required 
genius  and  skill  under  instant  command,  instead 
of  merely  phenomenal  execution.  Again,  Bee- 
thoven’s concertos  were  so  written  as  to  make 
the  solo  player  merely  one  of  the  orchestra, 
chaining  him  in  bonds  only  to  set  him  free  to 
deliver  the  cadenza.  This  species  of  self-efface- 
ment does  not  consort  with  the  purpose  of  solo 
playing,  which  is  display,  though  under  that 
display  there  should  be  power,  mastery,  and  re- 
source of  thought,  and  not  the  trickery  of  the 
accomplished  juggler.  Spohr  in  his  violin  music 
most  felicitously  accomplished  this,  and  he  is 
simply  incomparable  in  his  compromise  between 
what  is  severe  and  classical,  and  what  is  suave 
and  delightful,  or  passionately  exciting.  In  these 
works  the  musician  finds  nerve,  sparkle,  elan , 
and  brightness  combined  with  technical  charm 
and  richness  of  thought.  Spohr’s  unconscious 
and  spontaneous  force  in  this  direction  was  the 
direct  outcome  of  his  remarkable  power  as  a solo 
player,  or,  more  properly,  gathered  its  life-like  play 
and  strength  from  the  latter  fact.  It  may  be 
said  of  Spohr  that,  as  Mozart  raised  opera  to  a 
higher  standard,  as  Beethoven  uplifted  the  ideal 
of  the  orchestra,  as  Clementi  laid  a solid  founda- 


88  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


tion  for  piano-playing,  so  Spohr’s  creative  force 
as  a violinist  and  writer  for  the  violin  has  estab- 
lished the  grandest  school  for  this  instrument,  to 
which  all  the  foremost  contemporary  artists  ac- 
knowledge their  obligations. 

Dr.  Spohr’s  style  as  a player,  while  remark- 
able for  its  display  of  technique  and  command 
of  resource,  always  subordinated  mere  display  to 
the  purpose  of  the  music.  The  Italians  called 
him  “the  first  singer  on  the  violin,”  and  his 
profound  musical  knowledge  enabled  him  to  pro- 
duce effects  in  a perfectly  legitimate  manner, 
where  other  players  had  recourse  to  meretricious 
and  dazzling  exhibition  of  skill.  His  title  to 
recollection  in  the  history  of  music  will  not  be 
so  much  that  of  a great  general  composer,  but 
that  of  the  greatest  of  composers  for  the  violin, 
and  the  one  who  taught  violinists  that  height  of 
excellence  as  an  excutant  should  go  hand  m 
hand  with  good  taste  and  self-restraint,  to  pro 
duce  its  most  permanent  effects  and  exert  its 
most  vital  influence. 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


The  Birth  of  the  Greatest  of  Violinists. — His  Mother’s  Dream  — 
Extraordinary  Character  and  Genius. — Heine’s  Description  of 
his  Playing. — Leigh  Hunt  on  Paganini. — Superstitious  Rumors 
current  during  his  Life. — He  is  believed  to  be  a Demoniac. — 
His  Strange  Appearance. — Early  Training  and  Surroundings. 
— Anecdotes  of  his  Youth. — Paganini’s  Youthful  Dissipations. 
— His  Passion  for  Gambling. — He  acquires  his  Wonderful 
Guarnerius  Violin. — His  Reform  from  the  Gaming-table. — 
Indefatigable  Practice  and  Work  as  a Young  Artist. — Paga- 
nini as  a Preux  Chevalier. — His  Powerful  Attraction  for  Wo- 
men.— Episode  with  a Lady  of  Rank. — Anecdotes  of  his  Early 
Italian  Concertizing. — The  Imbroglio  at  Ferrara. — The  Frail 
Health  of  Paganini. — Wonderful  Success  at  Milan,  where  he 
first  plays  One  of  the  Greatest  of  his  Compositions,  “Le 
Streghe.” — Duel  with  Lafont. — Incidents  and  Anecdotes. — 
His  First  Visit  to  Germany. — Great  Enthusiasm  of  his  Audi- 
ences.— Experiences  at  Vienna,  Berlin,  and  other  German 
Cities. — Description  of  Paganini,  in  Paris,  by  Castil-Blaze  and 
Fetis. — His  English  Reception  and  the  Impression  made. — 
Opinions  of  the  Critics. — Paganini  not  pleased  with  England. 
— Settles  in  Paris  for  Two  Y ears,  and  becomes  the  Great  Musical 
Lion. — Simplicity  and  Amiability  of  Nature. — Magnificent 
Generosity  to  Hector  Berlioz. — The  Great  Fortune  made  by 
Paganini. — His  Beautiful  Country  Seat  near  Parma. — An  Un- 
fortunate Speculation  in  Paris. — The  Utter  Failure  of  his 
Health. — His  Death  at  Nice. — Characteristics  and  Anecdotes. 
— Interesting  Circumstances  of  his  Last  Moments. — The  Pecu- 
liar Genius  of  Paganini,  and  his  Influence  on  Art. 

I. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  last  century  an  Ital- 
ian woman  of  Genoa  had  a dream  which  she  thus 


90  TIIE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

related  to  her  little  son  : “ My  son,  you  will  be 
a great  musician.  An  angel  radiant  with  beauty 
appeared  to  me  during  the  night  and  promised  to 
accomplish  any  wish  that  I might  make.  I asked 
that  you  should  become  the  greatest  of  all  violin- 
ists, and  the  angel  granted  that  my  desire  should 
be  fulfilled/'  The  child  who  was  thus  addressed 
became  that  incomparable  artist,  Paganini,  whose 
name  now,  a glorious  tradition,  is  used  as  a stan- 
dard by  which  to  estimate  the  excellence  of  those 
who  have  succeeded  him. 

No  artist  ever  lived  who  so  piqued  public  curi- 
osity, and  invested  himself  with  a species  of  weird 
romance,  which  compassed  him  as  with  a cloud. 
The  personality  of  the  individual  so  unique  and 
extraordinary,  the  genius  of  the  artist  so  tran- 
scendant  in  its  way,  the  mystery  which  surrounded 
all  the  movements  of  the  man,  conspired  to  make 
him  an  object  of  such  interest  that  the  announce- 
ment of  a concert  by  him  in  any  European  city 
made  as  much  stir  as  some  great  public  event. 
Crowds  followed  his  strange  figure  in  the  streets 
wherever  he  went,  and,  had  the  time  been  the  me- 
diaeval ages,  he  himself  a celebrated  magician  or 
sorcerer,  credited  with  power  over  the  spirits  of 
earth  and  air,  his  appearance  could  not  have 
aroused  a thrill  of  attention  more  absorbing. 
Over  men  of  genius,  as  well  as  the  commonplace 
herd,  he  cast  the  same  spell,  stamping  himself  as 
a personage  who  could  be  compared  with  no  other. 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


91 


The  German  poet  Heine  thus  describes  his  first 
acquaintance  with  this  paragon  of  violinists  : 

“It  was  in  the  theatre  at  Hamburg  that  I 
first  heard  Paganini’s  violin.  Although  it  was 
fast-day,  all  the  commercial  magnates  of  the  town 
were  present  in  the  front  boxes,  the  goddesses 
Juno  of  Wandrahm,  and  the  goddesses  Aphro- 
dite of  Dreckwall.  A religious  hush  pervaded 
the  whole  assembly ; every  eye  was  directed  to- 
ward the  stage,  every  ear  was  strained  for  hear- 
ing. At  last  a dark  figure,  which  seemed  to 
ascend  from  the  under  world,  appeared  on  the 
stage.  It  was  Paganini  in  full  evening  dress, 
black  coat  and  waistcoat  cut  after  a most  villain- 
ous pattern,  such  as  is  perhaps  in  accordance  with 
the  infernal  etiquette  of  the  court  of  Proserpine, 
and  black  trousers  fitting  awkwardly  to  his  thin 
legs.  His  long  arms  appeared  still  longer  as  he 
advanced,  holding  in  one  hand  his  violin,  and  in 
the  other  the  bow,  hanging  down  so  as  almost  to 
touch  the  ground — all  the  while  making  a series 
of  extraordinary  reverences.  In  the  angular  con- 
tortions of  his  body  there  was  something  so  pain- 
fully vvooden,  and  also  something  so  like  the  move- 
ments of  a droll  animal,  that  a strange  disposition 
to  laughter  overcame  the  audience  ; but  his  face, 
which  the  glaring  footlights  caused  to  assume  an 
even  more  corpse-like  aspect  than  was  natural  to 
it,  had  in  it  something  so  appealing,  something 
so  imbecile  and  meek,  that  a strange  feeling  of 


92  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

compassion  removed  all  tendency  to  laughter. 
Had  he  learned  these  reverences  from  an  automa- 
ton or  a performing  dog  ? Is  this  beseeching  look 
the  look  of  one  who  is  sick  unto  death,  or  does 
there  lurk  behind  it  the  mocking  cunning  of  a 
miser  ? Is  that  a mortal  who  in  the  agony  of 
death  stands  before  the  public  in  the  art  arena, 
and,  like  a dying  gladiator,  bids  for  their  applause 
in  his  last  convulsions  ? or  is  it  some  phantom 
arisen  from  the  grave,  a vampire  with  a violin, 
who  comes  to  suck,  if  not  the  blood  from  our 
hearts,  at  least  the  money  from  our  pockets  ? 
Questions  such  as  these  kept  chasing  each  other 
through  the  brain  while  Paganini  continued  his 
apparently  interminable  series  of  complimentary 
bows  ; but  all  such  questionings  instantly  take 
flight  the  moment  the  great  master  puts  his  violin 
to  his  chin  and  began  to  play. 

“ Then  were  heard  melodies  such  as  the  nightin- 
gale pours  forth  in  the  gloaming  when  the  perfume 
of  the  rose  intoxicates  her  heart  with  sweet  fore- 
bodings of  spring  ! What  melting,  sensuously 
languishing  notes  of  bliss  ! Tones  that  kissed, 
then  poutingly  fled  from  another,  and  at  last  em- 
braced and  became  one,  and  died  away  in  the  ec- 
stasy of  union  ! Again,  there  were  heard  sounds 
like  the  song  of  the  fallen  angels,  who,  banished 
from  the  realms  of  bliss,  sink  with  shame-red  coun- 
tenance to  the  lower  world.  These  were  sounds 
out  of  whose  bottomless  depth  gleamed  no  ray  of 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


93 


hope  or  comfort ; when  the  blessed  in  heaven  hear 
them,  the  praises  of  God  die  away  upon  their 
pallid  lips,  and,  sighing,  they  veil  their  holy  faces.” 
Leigh  Hunt,  in  one  of  his  essays,  thus  de- 
scribes the  playing  of  this  greatest  of  all  virtu- 
osos : “Paganini,  the  first  time  I saw  and  heard 
him,  and  the  first  moment  he  struck  a note, 
seemed  literally  to  strike  it,  to  give  it  a blow. 
The  house  was  so  crammed  that,  being  among  the 
squeezers  in  the  standing  room  at  the  side  of  the 
pit,  I happened  to  catch  the  first  glance  of  his 
face  through  the  arms  akimbo  of  a man  who  was 
perched  up  before  me,  which  made  a kind  of  frame 
for  it ; and  there  on  the  stage  through  that  frame, 
as  through  a perspective  glass,  were  the  face,  the 
bust,  and  the  raised  hand  of  the  wonderful  mu- 
sician, with  the  instrument  at  his  chin,  just  going 
to  begin,  and  looking  exactly  as  I describe  him  in 
the  following  lines  : 

“ His  hand, 

Loading  the  air  with  dumb  expectancy, 

Suspended,  ere  it  fell,  a nation’s  breath. 

He  smote  ; and  clinging  to  the  serious  chords 
With  Godlike  ravishment  drew  forth  a breath, 

So  deep,  so  strong,  so  fervid,  thick  with  love — 
Blissful,  yet  laden  as  with  twenty  prayers — 

That  Juno  yearned  with  no  diviner  soul 
To  the  first  burthen  of  the  lips  of  Jove. 

The  exceeding  mystery  of  the  loveliness 
Sadden’d  delight ; and,  with  his  mournful  look, 
Dreary  and  gaunt,  hanging  his  pallid  face 


94  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


Twixt  his  dark  flowing  locks,  he  almost  seemed 

Too  feeble,  or  to  melancholy  eyes 

One  that  has  parted  from  his  soul  for  pride, 

And  in  the  sable  secret  lived  forlorn. 

“To  show  the  depth  and  identicalness  of  the 
impression  which  he  made  on  everybody,  foreign 
or  native,  an  Italian  who  stood  near  me  said  to 
himself,  with  a long  sigh,  ‘ 0 Dio  ! ’ and  this  had 
not  been  said  long,  when  another  person  in  the 
same  tone  uttered  ‘ Oh  Christ ! ? Musicians  pressed 
forward  from  behind  the  scenes  to  get  as  close 
to  him  as  possible,  and  they  could  not  sleep  at 
night  for  thinking  of  him.” 

The  impression  made  by  Paganini  was  some- 
thing more  than  that  of  a great,  even  the  great- 
est, violinist.  It  was  as  if  some  demoniac  power 
lay  behind  the  human,  prisoned  and  dumb  except 
through  the  agencies  of  music,  but  able  to  fill 
expression  with  faint,  far-away  cries  of  passion, 
anguish,  love,  and  aspiration — echoes  from  the 
supernatural  and  invisible.  His  hearers  fojrgot 
the  admiration  due  to  the  wonderful  virtuoso, 
and  seemed  to  listen  to  voices  from  another  world. 
The  strange  rumors  that  were  current  about  him, 
Paganini  seems  to  have  been  not  disinclined  to  en- 
courage, for,  mingled  with  his  extraordinary  gen- 
ius, there  was  an  element  of  charlatanism.  It 
was  commonly  reported  that  his  wonderful  execu- 
tion on  the  G-string  was  due  to  a long  imprison- 
ment, inflicted  on  him  for  the  assassination  of  a 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


95 


rival  in  love,  during  which  he  had  a violin  with 
one  string  only.  Paganini  himself  writes  that, 
“ At  Vienna  one  of  the  audience  affirmed  publicly 
that  my  performance  was  not  surprising,  for  he 
had  distinctly  seen,  while  I was  playing  my  varia- 
tions, the  devil  at  my  elbow,  directing  my  arm 
and  guiding  my  bow.  My  resemblance  to  the 
devil  was  a proof  of  my  origin/5  Even  sensible 
people  believed  that  Paganini  had  some  uncanny 
and  unlawful  secret  which  enabled  him  to  do  what 
was  impossible  for  other  players.  At  Prague  he 
actually  printed  a letter  from  his  mother  to  prove 
that  he  was  not  the  son  of  the  devil.  It  was  not 
only  the  perfectly  novel  and  astonishing  charac- 
ter of  his  playing,  but  to  a large  extent  his  ghost- 
like appearance,  which  caused  such  absurd  rumors. 
The  tall,  skeleton-like  figure,  the  pale,  narrow,  wax- 
colored  face,  the  long,  dark,  disheveled  hair,  the 
mysterious  expression  of  the  heavy  eye,  made  a 
weirdly  strange  ensemble.  Heine  tells  us  in  “ The 
Florentine  Nights”  that  only  one  artist  had  suc- 
ceeded in  delineating  the  real  physiognomy  of 
Paganini:  “ A deaf  and  crazy  painter,  called 
Lyser,  has  in  a sort  of  spiritual  frenzy  so  admira- 
bly portrayed  by  a few  touches  of  his  pencil  the 
head  of  Paganini  that  one  is  dismayed  and  moved 
to  laughter  at  the  faithfulness  of  the  sketch  ! 
‘The  devil  guided  my  hand,5  said  the  deaf  painter 
to  me,  with  mysterious  gesticulations  and  a satiri- 
cal yet  good-natured  wag  of  the  head,  such  as  he 


96  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


was  wont  to  indulge  in  when  in  the  midst  of  his 
genial  tomfoolery . ” 

II. 

C Nicolo  Paganini  was  born  at  Genoa  on  the 
night  of  February  18,  1784,  of  parents  in  hum- 
bly prosperous  circumstances,  his  father  being  a 
ship-broker,  and,  though  illiterate  in  a general 
way,  a passionate  lover  of  music  and  an  amateur 
of  some  skill.  The  father  soon  perceived  the 
child’s  talent,  and  caused  him  to  study  so  severely 
that  it  not  only  affected  his  constitution,  but 
actually  made  him  a tolerable  player  at  the  age 
of  six  years.  The  elder  Paganini’s  knowledge  of 
music  was  not  sufficient  to  carry  the  lad  far  in 
mastering  the  instrument,  but  the  extraordinary 
precocity  shown  so  interested  Signor  Corvetto, 
the  leader  at  the  Genoese  theatre,  that  he  under- 
took to  instruct  the  gifted  child.  Two  years 
later  the  young  Paganini  was  transferred  to  the 
charge  of  Signor  Giacomo  Costa,  an  excellent 
violinist,  and  director  of  church  music  at  one  of 
the  cathedrals,  under  whom  he  made  rapid  prog- 
ress in  executive  skill,  while  he  studied  harmony 
and  counterpoint  under  the  composer  Gnecco. 
It  was  at  this  time,  Paganini  not  yet  being  nine 
years  of  age,  that  he  composed  his  first  piece,  a 
sonata  now  lost.  In  1793  he  made  his  first  ap- 
pearance in  public  at  Genoa,  and  played  varia- 
tions on  the  air  “La  Carmagnole,”  then  so  popu- 
lar, with  immense  effect.  This  delut  was  followed 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


97 


by  several  subsequent  appearances,  in  which  he 
created  much  enthusiasm.  He  also  played  a vio- 
lin concerto  every  Sunday  in  church,  an  attrac- 
tion which  drew  great  throngs.  This  practice  was 
of  great  use  to  Paganini,  as  it  forced  him  con- 
tinually to  study  fresh  music.  About  the  year 
1795  it  was  deemed  best  to  place  the  boy  under 
the  charge  of  an  eminent  professor,  and  Alessan- 
dro Rolla,  of  Parma,  was  pitched  on.  When  the 
Paganinis  arrived,  they  found  the  learned  profes- 
sor ill,  and  rather  surly  at  the  disturbance.  Young 
Paganini,  however,  speedily  silenced  the  com- 
plaints of  the  querulous  invalid.  The  great 
player  himself  relates  the  anecdote:  “His  wife 
showed  us  into  a room  adjoining  the  bedroom, 
till  she  had  spoken  to  the  sick  man.  Finding  on 
the  table  a violin  and  the  music  of  Rolla’s  latest 
concerto,  I took  up  the  instrument  and  played 
the  piece  at  sight.  Astonished  at  what  he  heard, 
the  composer  asked  for  the  name  of  the  player, 
and  could  not  believe  it  was  only  a young  boy  till 
he  had  seen  for  himself.  He  then  told  me  that 
he  had  nothing  to  teach  me,  and  advised  me  to  go 
to  Paer  for  study  in  composition.  ” But,  as  Paer 
was  at  this  time  in  Germany,  Paganini  studied 
under  Ghiretti  and  Rolla  himself  while  he  re- 
mained in  Parma,  according  to  the  monograph  of 
Fetis. 

The  youthful  player  had  already  begun  to 
search  out  new  effects  on  the  violin,  and  to  create 


98  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

for  himself  characteristics  of  tone  and  treatment 
hitherto  unknown  to  players.  After  his  return 
to  Genoa  he  composed  his  first  “ Etudes/5  which 
were  of  such  unheard-of  difficulty  that  he  was 
sometimes  obliged  to  practice  a single  passage  ten 
hours  running.  His  intense  study  resulted  not 
only  in  his  acquirement  of  an  unlimited  execution, 
but  in  breaking  down  his  health.  His  father  was 
a harsh  and  inexorable  taskmaster,  and  up  to  this 
time  Paganini  (now  being  fourteen)  had  remained 
quiescent  under  this  tyrant’s  control.  But  the 
desire  of  liberty  was  breeding  projects  in  his 
breast,  which  opportunity  soon  favored.  He  man- 
aged to  get  permission  to  travel  alone  for  the  first 
time  to  Lucca,  where  he  had  engaged  to  play  at 
the  musical  festival  in  November,  1798.  He  wTas 
received  with  so  much  enthusiasm  that  he  deter- 
mined not  to  return  to  the  paternal  roof,  and  at 
once  set  off  to  fulfill  engagements  at  Pisa  and 
other  towns.  In  vain  the  angry  and  mortified 
father  sought  to  reclaim  the  young  rebel  who  had 
slipped  through  his  fingers.  Nicolo  found  the 
sweets  of  freedom  too  precious  to  go  back  again 
to  bondage,  though  he  continued  to  send  his 
father  a portion  of  the  proceeds  of  his  playing. 

The  youth,  intoxicated  with  the  license  of  his 
life,  plunged  into  all  kinds  of  dissipation,  specially 
into  gambling,  at  this  time  a universal  vice  in 
Italy,  as  indeed  it  was  throughout  Europe.  Al- 
ternate fits  of  study  and  gaming,  both  of  which 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


99 


he  pursued  with  equal  zeal,  and  the  exhaustion 
of  the  life  he  led,  operated  dangerously  on  his  en- 
feebled frame,  and  fits  of  illness  frequently  pre- 
vented his  fulfillment  of  concert  engagements. 
More  than  once  he  wasted  in  one  evening  the 
proceeds  of  several  concerts,  and  was  obliged  to 
borrow  money  on  his  violin,  the  source  of  his 
livelihood,  in  order  to  obtain  funds  wherewith  to 
pay  his  gambling  debts.  Anything  more  wild, 
debilitating,  and  ruinous  than  the  life  led  by  this 
boy,  who  had  barely  emerged  from  childhood,  can 
hardly  be  imagined.  On  one  occasion  he  was 
announced  for  a concert  at  Leghorn,  but  he  had 
gambled  away  his  money  and  pawned  his  vio- 
lin, so  that  he  was  compelled  to  get  the  loan  of 
an  instrument  in  order  to  play  in  the  evening. 
In  this  emergency  he  applied  to  M.  Livron,  a 
French  gentleman,  a merchant  of  Leghorn,  and 
an  excellent  amateur  performer,  who  possessed  a 
Guarneri  del  Gesu  violin,  reputed  among  con- 
noisseurs one  of  the  finest  instruments  in  the 
world.  The  generous  Frenchman  instantly  ac- 
ceded to  the  boy’s  wish,  and  the  precious  violin 
was  put  in  his  hands.  After  the  concert,  when 
Paganini  returned  the  instrument  to  M.  Livron, 
the  latter,  who  had  been  to  hear  him,  exclaimed, 
“ Never  will  I profane  the  strings  which  your 
fingers  have  touched!  That  instrument  is  yours.” 
The  astonishment  and  delight  of  the  young  artist 
may  be  more  easily  imagined  than  described.  It 


100  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


was  upon  this  violin  that  Paganini  afterward  per- 
formed in  all  his  concerts*  and  the  great  virtuoso 
left  it  to  the  town  of  Genoa*  where  it  is  now  pre- 
served in  a glass  case  in  the  Museum.  An  excel- 
lent engraving  of  it*  from  a photograph*  was  pub- 
lished in  1875  in  George  Hart’s  hook  on  “ The 
Violin.” 

At  this  period  of  his  life*  between  the  ages  of 
seventeen  and  twenty*  Nicolo  Paganini  was  sur- 
rounded by  numerous  admirers*  and  led  into  all 
kinds  of  dissipation.  He  was  naturally  amiable 
and  witty  in  conversation*  though  he  has  been 
reproached  with  selfishness.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  he  was*  at  this  period*  constantly  un- 
der the  combined  influences  of  flattery  and  un- 
bounded ambition  ; nevertheless*  in  spite  of  all  his 
successful  performances  at  concerts*  the  style  of 
life  he  was  leading  kept  him  so  poor  that  he  fre- 
quently took  in  hand  all  kinds  of  musical  work  to 
supply  the  wants  of  the  moment.  It  is  a curious 
coincidence  that  the  fine  violin  which  was  present- 
ed to  him  by  M.  Livron*  as  we  have  just  seen* 
was  the  cause  of  his  abandoning*  after  a while,  the 
allurements  of  the  gaming-tables.  Paganini  tells 
us  himself  that  a certain  nobleman  was  anxious 
to  possess  this  instrument*  and  had  offered  for  it 
a sum  equivalent  to  about  four  hundred  dollars  ; 
but  the  artist  would  not  sell  it  even  if  one  thou- 
sand had  been  offered  for  it*  although  he  was*  at 
this  juncture*  in  great  need  of  funds  to  pay  off  a 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


101 


debt  of  honor,  and  sorely  tempted  to  accept  the 
proffered  amount.  Just  at  this  point  Paganini 
received  an  invitation  to  a friend’s  house  where 
gambling  was  the  order  of  the  day.  “ All  my 
capital,”  he  says,  “consisted  of  thirty  francs,  as  I 
had  disposed  of  my  jewels,  watch,  rings,  etc.  ; I 
nevertheless  resolved  on  risking  this  last  resource, 
and,  if  fortune  proved  fickle,  to  sell  my  violin 
and  proceed  to  St.  Petersburg,  without  instru- 
ment or  baggage,  with  the  view  of  reestablishing 
my  affairs.  My  thirty  francs  were  soon  reduced 
to  three,  and  I already  fancied  myself  on  the  road 
to  Bussia,  when  luck  took  a sudden  turn,  and  I 
won  one  hundred  and  sixty  francs.  This  saved 
my  violin  and  completely  set  me  up.  From  that 
day  forward  I gradually  gave  up  gaming,  becom- 
ing more  and  more  convinced  that  a gambler 
is  an  object  of  contempt  to  all  well-regulated 
minds.” 

III. 

Love-making  was  also  among  the  diversions 
which  Paganini  began  early  to  practice.  Like 
nearly  all  great  musicians,  he  was  an  object  of 
great  fascination  to  the  fair  sex,  and  his  life  had 
its  full  share  of  amorous  romances.  A strange 
episode  was  his  retirement  in  the  country  chateau 
of  a beautiful  Bolognese  lady  for  three  years,  be- 
tween the  years  1801  and  1804.  Here,  in  the  so- 
ciety of  a lovely  woman,  who  was  passionately 
devoted  to  him,  and  amid  beautiful  scenery,  he 


102  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

devoted  himself  to  practicing  and  composition, 
also  giving  much  study  to  the  guitar  (the  favorite 
instrument  of  his  inamorata),  on  which  he  became 
a wonderful  proficient.  This  charming  idyl  in 
Paganini’s  life  reminds  one  of  the  retirement  of 
the  pianist  Chopin  to  the  island  of  Majorca  in 
the  company  of  Mme.  George  Sand.  It  was  dur- 
ing this  period  of  his  life  that  Paganini  composed 
twelve  of  his  finest  sonatas  for  violin  and  guitar. 

When  our  musician  returned  again  to  Genoa 
and  active  life  in  1804,  he  devoted  much  time 
also  to  composition.  He  was  twenty  years  of 
age,  and  wrote  here  four  grand  quartets  for  vio- 
lin, tenor,  violoncello,  and  guitar,  and  also  some 
bravura  variations  for  violin  with  guitar  accom- 
paniment. At  this  period  he  gave  lessons  to  a 
young  girl  of  Genoa,  Catherine  Calcagno,  about 
seven  years  of  age  ; eight  years  later,  when  only 
fifteen  years  old,  this  young  lady  astonished  Ital- 
ian audiences  by  the  boldness  of  her  style.  She 
continued  her  artistic  career  till  the  year  1816, 
when  she  had  attained  the  age  of  twenty-one,  and 
all  traces  of  her  in  the  musical  world  appear  to 
be  lost ; doubtless,  at  this  period  she  found  a hus- 
band, and  retired  completely  from  public  life. 

In  1805  Paganini  accepted  the  position  of 
director  of  music  and  conductor  of  the  opera 
orchestra  at  Lucca,  under  the  immediate  patron- 
age of  the  Princess  Eliza,  sister  of  Napoleon  and 
wife  of  Bacciochi.  The  prince  took  lessons  from 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


103 


him  on  the  violin,  and  gave  him  whole  charge 
of  the  court  music.  It  was  at  the  numerous 
concerts  given  at  Lucca  during  this  period  of 
Paganini’s  early  career  that  he  first  elaborated 
many  of  those  curious  effects,  such  as  perform- 
ances on  one  string,  harmonic  and  pizzicato  pas- 
sages, which  afterward  became  so  characteristic 
of  his  style. 

But  the  demon  of  unrest  would  not  permit 
Paganini  to  remain  very  long  in  one  place.  In 
1808  he  began  his  wandering  career  of  concert- 
giving  afresh,  performing  throughout  northern 
Italy,  and  amassing  considerable  money,  for  his 
fame  had  now  become  so  widespread  that  engage- 
ments poured  on  him  thick  and  fast.  The  les- 
sons of  his  inconsiderate  past  had  already  made  a 
deep  impression  on  his  mind,  and  Paganini  be- 
came very  economical,  a tendency  which  after- 
ward developed  into  an  almost  miserly  passion  for 
money-getting  and  -saving,  though,  through  his 
whole  life,  he  performed  many  acts  of  magnifi- 
cent generosity.  He  had  numerous  curious  ad- 
ventures, some  of  which  are  worth  recording.  At 
a concert  in  Leghorn  he  came  on  the  stage,  limp- 
ing, from  the  effects  of  a nail  which  had  run 
into  his  foot.  This  made  a great  laugh.  Just  as 
he  began  to  play,  the  candles  fell  out  of  his  music 
desk,  and  again  there  was  an  uproar.  Suddenly 
the  first  string  broke,  and  there  was  more  hilari- 
ty; but,  says  Paganini,  naively,  “I  played  the 


104  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

piece  on  three  strings,  and  the  sneers  quickly 
changed  into  boisterous  applause.”  At  Ferrara 
he  narrowly  escaped  an  enraged  audience  with  his 
life.  It  had  been  arranged  that  a certain  Signora 
Marcolini  should  take  part  in  his  concert,  but  ill- 
ness prevented  her  singing,  and  at  the  last  moment 
Paganini  secured  the  services  of  Signora  Pallerini, 
who,  though  a danseuse,  possessed  an  agreeable 
voice.  The  lady  was  very  nervous  and  diffident, 
but  sang  exceedingly  well,  though  there  were  a 
few  in  the  audience  who  were  inconsiderate 
enough  to  hiss.  Paganini  was  furious  at  this  in- 
sult, and  vowed  to  be  avenged.  At  the  end  of  the 
concert  he  proposed  to  amuse  the  audience  by 
imitating  the  noises  of  various  animals  on  his  vio- 
lin. After  he  had  reproduced  the  mewing  of  a 
cat,  the  barking  of  a dog,  the  crowing  of  a cock, 
etc.,  he  advanced  to  the  footlights  and  called  out, 
“ Questo  e per  quelli  che  han  fischiato  ” (“  This  is 
for  those  who  hissed  ”),  and  imitated  in  an  unmis- 
takable way  the  braying  of  the  jackass.  At  this 
the  pit  rose  to  a man,  and  charged  through  the 
orchestra,  climbed  the  stage,  and  would  have 
killed  Paganini,  had  he  not  fled  incontinently, 
“standing  not  on  the  order  of  his  going,  but  go- 
ing at  once.”  The  explanation  of  this  sensitive- 
ness of  the  audience  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the 
people  of  Ferrara  had  a general  reputation  for 
stupidity,  and  the  appearance  of  a Ferrarese  out- 
side of  the  town  walls  was  the  signal  for  a signifi- 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


105 


cant  hee-haw.  Paganini  never  gave  any  more  con- 
certs in  that  town. 

As  he  approached  his  thirtieth  year  his  deli- 
cate and  highly  strung  organization,  already  un- 
dermined by  the  excesses  of  his  early  youth,  began 
to  give  way.  He  was  frequently  troubled  with 
internal  inflammation,  and  he  was  obliged  to  regu- 
late his  habits  in  the  strictest  fashion  as  to  diet 
and  hours  of  sleep.  Even  while  comparatively 
well,  his  health  always  continued  to  be  very  frail. 

Paganini  composed  his  remarkable  variations 
called  “Le  Streghe”  (“The  Witches ”)  at  Milan 
in  1813.  In  this  composition,  the  air  of  which 
was  taken  from  a ballet  by  Sussmayer,  called 
“II  Noce  de  Benevento,”  at  the  part  where  the 
witches  appear  in  the  piece  as  performed  on  the 
stage,  the  violinist  introduced  many  of  his  most 
remarkable  effects.  He  played  this  piece  for 
the  first  time  at  La  Scala  theatre,  and  he  was 
honored  with  the  most  tumultuous  enthusiasm, 
which  for  a long  time  prevented  the  progress  of 
the  programme.  Paganini  always  had  a predi- 
lection for  Milan  afterward,  and  said  he  enjoyed 
giving  concerts  there  more  than  at  any  other  city 
in  Europe.  He  gave  no  less  than  thirty-seven  com 
certs  here  in  1813.  In  this  city,  three  years  after- 
ward, occurred  his  interesting  musical  duel  with 
Lafont,  the  well-known  French  violinist.  Paga- 
nini was  then  at  Genoa,  and,  hearing  of  Lafont’s 
presence  at  Milan,  at  once  hastened  to  that  city  to 


106  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

hear  him  play.  “ His  performance,”  said  Pagani- 
ni, “pleased  me  exceedingly.”  When  the  Italian 
violinist,  a week  later,  gave  a concert  at  La  Scala, 
Lafont  was  in  the  audience,  and  the  very  next 
day  he  proposed  that  Paganini  and  himself  should 
play  together  at  the  same  concert.  “ I excused 
myself,”  said  Paganini,  “alleging  that  such  ex- 
periments were  impolitic,  as  the  public  invariably 
looked  upon  these  matters  as  duels,  in  which 
there  must  be  a victim,  and  that  it  would  be  so 
in  this  case ; for,  as  he  was  acknowledged  to  be 
the  best  of  the  French  violinists,  so  the  public 
indulgently  considered  me  to  be  the  best  player 
in  Italy.  Lafont  not  looking  at  it  in  this  light, 
I was  obliged  to  accept  the  challenge.  I allowed 
him  to  arrange  the  programme.  We  each  played 
a concerto  of  our  own  composition,  after  which 
we  played  together  a duo  concertante  by  Kreutz- 
er.  In  this  I did  not  deviate  in  the  least  from 
the  composer’s  text  while  we  played  together,  but 
in  the  solo  parts  I yielded  freely  to  my  own  im- 
agination, and  introduced  several  novelties,  which 
seemed  to  annoy  my  adversary.  Then  followed 
a ‘ Russian  Air,’  with  variations,  by  Lafont,  and 
I finished  the  concert  with  my  variations  called 
‘ Le  Streghe.’  Lafont  probably  surpassed  me 
in  tone  ; but  the  applause  which  followed  my  ef- 
forts convinced  me  that  I did  not  suffer  by  com- 
parison.” There  seems  to  be  no  question  that 
the  victory  remained  with  Paganini.  A few  yeari 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


later  Paganini  played  in  a similar  contest  with 
the  Polish  violinist  Lipinski,  at  Placentia.  The 
two  artists,  however,  were  intimate  friends,  and 
there  was  not  a spark  of  rivalry  or  jealousy  in 
their  generous  emulation.  In  fact,  Paganini  ap- 
pears to  have  been  utterly  without  that  conceit 
in  his  own  extraordinary  powers  which  is  so 
common  in  musical  artists.  Heine  gives  an 
amusing  illustration  of  this.  He  writes  : “ Once, 
after  listening  to  a concert  by  Paganini,  as  I was 
addressing  him  with  the  most  impassioned  eulo- 
gies on  his  violin-playing,  he  interrupted  me  with 
the  words,  ‘But  how  were  you  pleased  to-day 
with  my  compliments  and  reverences  ? ’ ” The 
musician  thought  more  of  his  genuflexions  than 
of  his  musical  talent. 

IY. 

In  the  year  1817  Rossini,  Meyerbeer,  and  Pag- 
anini were  at  Rome  during  Carnival  time,  and 
the  trio  determined  on  a grand  frolic.  Rossini 
had  composed  a very  clever  part-song,  “ Carnavale, 
Carnavale,”  known  in  English  as  “ We  are  Poor 
Beggars/’  and  the  three  great  musicians,  having 
disguised  themselves  as  beggars,  sang  it  with  great 
effect  through  the  streets.  Rossini  during  this 
Carnival  produced  his  “ Cenerentola,”  and  Pag- 
anini gave  a series  of  concerts  which  excited 
great  enthusiasm.  Shortly  after  this,  Paganini’s 
health  gave  way  completely  at  Naples,  and  the 
landlord  of  the  hotel  where  he  was  stopping  got 


orREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

*s  impression  that  his  sickness  was  infectious, 
in  the  most  brutal  manner  he  turned  the  sick  mu- 
sician into  the  street.  Fortunately,  at  this  moment 
a violoncello  player,  Ciandelli,  who  knew  Paga- 
nini well,  was  passing  by,  and  came  to  the  rescue, 
and  his  anger  was  so  great,  when  he  saw  what  had 
happened  to  the  great  violinist,  that  he  belabored 
the  barbarous  landlord  unmercifully  with  a stick, 
and  conveyed  the  invalid  to  a comfortable  lodging 
where  he  was  carefully  attended  to.  Some  time 
subsequently  Paganini  had  an  opportunity  of  re- 
paying this  kindness,  for  he  gave  Ciandelli  some 
valuable  instruction,  which  enabled  him  in  the 
course  of  a few  years  to  become  transformed  from 
a very  indifferent  performer  into  an  artist  of  con- 
siderable eminence. 

At  the  age  of  thirty-six  Paganini  again  found 
himself  at  Milan,  and  there  organized  a society 
of  musical  amateurs,  called  “Gli  Orfei.”  He 
conducted  several  of  their  concerts.  But  either 
the  love  of  a roving  life  or  the  necessity  of  wan- 
dering in  order  to  fill  his  exchequer  kept  him 
constantly  on  the  move ; and,  though  during 
these  travels  he  is  said  to  have  met  with  many 
extraordinary  adventures,  very  little  reliance  can 
be  placed  upon  the  accounts  that  have  come  down 
to  us,  the  more  so  when  we  consider  that  Paga- 
nini’s mode  of  life  was,  as  we  shall  see  presently, 
become  by  this  time  extremely  sober.  It  was  not 
until  he  was  forty-four  years  old  that  he  finally 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


109 


quitted  Italy  to  make  himself  better  known  in 
foreign  countries.  He  had  been  encouraged  to 
visit  Vienna  by  Prince  Metternich,  who  had 
heard  and  admired  his  playing  at  Rome  in  1817, 
and  had  repeatedly  made  plans  to  visit  Germany, 
but  his  health  had  been  so  wretched  as  to  prevent 
his  departure  from  his  native  country.  But  a 
sojourn  in  the  balmy  climate  of  Sicily  for  a few 
months  had  done  him  so  much  good  that  in  1828 
he  put  his  long-deferred  plans  into  execution. 
The  first  concert  in  March  of  that  year  made  an 
unparalleled  sensation.  He  gave  a great  number 
of  concerts  in  Vienna,  among  them  several  for 
the  poor.  A fever  seized  all  classes  of  society. 
The  shop  windows  were  crowded  with  goods  a la 
Paganini ; a good  stroke  at  billiards  was  called 
un  coup  a la  Paganini  ; dishes  were  named  after 
him ; his  portrait  was  enameled  on  snuff-boxes, 
and  the  Viennese  dandies  carried  his  bust  on  the 
head  of  their  walking-sticks.  A cabman  wheedled 
out  of  the  reluctant  violinist  permission  to  print 
on  his  cab,  Cabriolet  de  Paganini . By  this  cun- 
ning device,  Jehu  so  augmented  his  profits  that 
he  was  able  to  rent  a large  house  and  establish  a 
hotel,  in  which  capacity  Paganini  found  him 
when  he  returned  again  to  Vienna. 

Among  the  pleasant  stories  told  of  him  is  one 
similar  to  an  incident  previously  related  of  Viotti. 
One  day,  as  he  was  walking  in  Vienna,  Paganini 
saw  a poor  little  Italian  boy  scraping  some  Neapol- 


110  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


itan  songs  before  the  windows  of  a large  house. 
A celebrated  composer  who  accompanied  the  ar- 
tist remarked  to  him,  “ There  is  one  of  your  com- 
patriots.” Upon  which  Paganini  evinced  a de- 
sire to  speak  to  the  lad,  and  went  across  the  street 
to  him  for  that  purpose.  After  ascertaining  that 
he  was  a poor  beggar-boy  from  the  other  side  of 
the  Alps,  and  that  he  supported  his  sick  mother, 
his  only  relative,  by  his  playing,  the  great  violin- 
ist appeared  touched.  He  literally  emptied  his 
pockets  into  the  boy’s  hand,  and,  taking  the  violin 
and  bow  from  him,  began  the  most  grotesque  and 
extraordinary  performance  possible.  A crowd 
soon  collected,  the  great  virtuoso  was  at  once  rec- 
ognized by  the  bystanders,  and  when  he  brought 
the  performance  to  an  end,  amid  the  cheers  and 
shouts  of  all  assembled,  he  handed  round  the  boy’s 
hat,  and  made  a considerable  collection  of  coin, 
in  which  silver  pieces  were  very  conspicuous.  He 
then  handed  the  sum  to  the  young  Italian,  say- 
ing, “Take  that  to  your  mother,”  and,  rejoining 
his  companion,  walked  off  with  him,  saying,  “ I 
hope  I’ve  done  a good  turn  to  that  little  animal.” 
At  Berlin,  where  he  soon  afterward  astonished 
his  crowded  audiences  by  his  marvelous  playing, 
the  same  fanatical  enthusiasm  ensued  ; and,  with 
the  exception  of  Palermo,  Naples  (where  he  seems 
to  have  had  many  detractors),  and  Prague,  his 
visits  to  the  various  cities  of  Europe  were  one 
continued  triumph.  People  tried  in  vain  to  ex- 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


Ill 


plain  his  method  of  playing,  professors  criticised 
him,  and  pamphlets  were  published  which  en- 
deavored to  make  him  out  a quack  or  a charlatan. 
It  was  all  to  no  purpose.  Nothing  could  arrest 
his  onward  course  ; triumph  succeeded  triumph 
wherever  he  appeared  ; and,  though  no  one  could 
understand  him,  every  one  admired  him,  and  he 
had  only  to  touch  his  violin  to  enchant  thousands. 

A curious  scene  occurred  at  Berlin,  at  a mu- 
sical evening  party  to  which  Paganini  was  invited. 
A young  and  presumptuous  professor  of  the  violin 
performed  there  several  pieces  with  very  little  ef- 
fect ; he  was  not  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  Gen- 
oese giant,  whom  he  did  not  know  even  by  sight. 
Others,  however,  quickly  recognized  him,  and  he 
was  asked  to  play,  which  he  at  first  declined,  but 
finally  consented  to  do  after  urgent  solicitation. 
Purposely  he  played  a few  variations  in  wretchedly 
bad  style,  which  caused  a suppressed  laugh  from 
those  ignorant  of  his  identity.  The  young  pro- 
fessor came  forward  again  and  played  another  se- 
lection in  a most  pretentious  and  pointed  way, 
as  if  to  crush  the  daring  wretch  who  had  ven- 
tured to  compete  with  him.  Paganini  again  took 
up  the  instrument,  and  played  a short  piece  with 
such  touching  pathos  and  astonishing  execution, 
that  the  audience  sat  breathless  till  the  last  dying 
cadence  wakened  them  into  thunders  of  applause, 
and  hearts  thrilled  as  the  name  “ Paganini  ” crept 
from  mouth  to  mouth.  The  young  professor  had 


112  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

already  vanished  from  the  room,  and  was  never 
again  seen  in  the  house  where  he  had  received  so 
severe  a lesson. 

Paganini  repeated  his  triumphs  again  the  fol- 
lowing year,  performing  in  Vienna  and  the  prin- 
cipal cities  of  Germany,  and  everywhere  arousing 
similar  feelings  of  admiration.  Orders  and  medals 
were  bestowed  on  him,  and  his  progress  was 
almost  one  of  royalty.  His  first  concert  in  Paris 
was  given  on  March  9,  1831,  at  the  opera-house. 
He  was  then  forty-seven  years  old,  and  Castil- 
Blaze  described  him  as  being  nearly  six  feet  in 
height,  with  a long,  pallid  face,  brilliant  eyes,  like 
those  of  an  eagle,  long  curling  black  hair,  which 
fell  down  over  the  collar  of  his  coat,  a thin  and 
cadaverous  figure — altogether  a personality  so 
gaunt  and  delicate  as  to  be  more  like  a shadow 
than  a man.  The  eyes  sparkled  with  a strange 
phosphorescent  gleam,  and  the  long  bony  fingers 
were  so  flexible  as  to  be  likened  only  to  “a  hand- 
kerchief tied  to  the  end  of  a stick.”  Fetis  de- 
scribes the  impression  he  created  at  his  first  con- 
cert as  amounting  to  a “positive  and  universal 
frenzy.”  Being  questioned  as  to  why  he  always 
performed  his  own  compositions,  he  replied  “that, 
if  he  played  other  compositions  than  his  own,  he 
was  obliged  to  arrange  them  to  suit  his  own  pe- 
culiar style,  and  it  was  less  trouble  to  write  a 
piece  of  his  own.  Indeed,  whenever  he  attempted 
to  interpret  the  works  of  other  composers,  he 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


113 


failed  to  produce  the  effects  which  might  have 
been  expected  of  him.  This  was  especially  the 
case  in  the  works  of  Beethoven. 

Y. 

When  Paganini  appeared  in  England,  of  course 
there  was  a prodigious  curiosity  to  see  and  hear 
the  great  player.  All  kinds  of  rumors  were  in 
the  public  mouth  about  him,  and  many  of  the 
lower  classes  really  believed  that  he  had  sold  him- 
self to  the  evil  one.  The  capacious  area  of  the 
opera-house  was  densely  packed,  and  the  prices  of 
admission  were  doubled  on  the  opening  night. 
The  enthusiasm  awakened  by  the  performance  can 
best  be  indicated  by  quoting  from  some  of  the 
contemporary  accounts.  The  concert  opened  with 
Beethoven’s  Second  Symphony,  performed  by  the 
Philharmonic  Society,  and  it  was  followed  by 
Lablache,  who  sang  Rossini’s  6 ‘ Largo  al  facto- 
tum.” “ A breathless  silence  then  ensued,”  writes 
Mr.  Gardiner,  an  amateur  of  Leicester,  who  at 
the  peril  of  his  ribs  had  been  struggling  in  the 
crowd  for  two  hours  to  get  admission,  “and  every 
eye  watched  the  action  of  this  extraordinary  vio- 
linist as  he  glided  from  the  side  scenes  to  the 
front  of  the  stage.  An  involuntary  cheering  burst 
from  every  part  of  the  house,  many  persons  ris- 
ing from  their  seats  to  view  the  specter  during 
the  thunder  of  this  unprecedented  applause,  his 
gaunt  and  extraordinary  appearance  being  more 


114  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

like  that  of  a devotee  about  to  suffer  martyrdom 
than  one  to  delight  you  with  his  art.  With  the 
tip  of  his  bow  he  set  off  the  orchestra  in  a grand 
military  movement  with  a force  and  vivacity  as 
surprising  as  it  was  new.  At  the  termination 
of  this  introduction,  he  commenced  with  a soft, 
streamy  note  of  celestial  quality,  and  with  three 
or  four  whips  of  his  bow  elicited  points  of  sound 
that  mounted  to  the  third  heaven,  and  as  bright  as 
stars.  . . . Immediately  an  execution  followed 
which  was  equally  indescribable.  A scream  of 
astonishment  and  delight  burst  from  the  audience 
at  the  novelty  of  this  effect.  . . . etc.”  This 
naive  account  may  serve  to  show  the  impression 
created  on  the  minds  of  those  not  trained  to  guard 
their  words  with  moderation. 

“ Nothing  can  be  more  intense  in  feeling,” 
said  a contemporary  critic,  “than  his  conception 
and  delivery  of  an  adagio  passage.  His  tone  is, 
perhaps,  not  quite  so  full  and  round  as  that  of  a 
De  Beriot  or  Baillot,  for  example  ; it  is  delicate 
rather  than  strong,  but  this  delicacy  was  proba- 
bly never  possessed  equally  by  another  player.” 
“ There  is  no  trick  in  his  playing,”  writes  another 
critic  ; “ it  is  all  fair  scientific  execution,  opening* 
to  us  a new  order  of  sounds.  . . . All  his  passages 
seem  free  and  unpremeditated,  as  if  conceived  on 
the  instant.  One  has  no  impression  of  their  hav- 
ing cost  him  either  forethought  or  labor.  . . . 
The  word  difficulty  has  no  place  in  his  vocab- 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


115 


ulary.  . . . etc.”  Paganini’s  lengthened  tour 
through  London  and  the  provinces  was  every- 
where attended  with  the  same  success,  and  brought 
him  in  a golden  harvest,  for  his  reputation  had 
now  grown  so  portentous  that  he  could  exact  the 
greatest  terms  from  managers. 

Paganini  avowed  himself  as  not  altogether 
pleased  with  England,  but,  under  the  surface  of 
such  complaints  as  the  following,  one  detects  the 
ring  of  gratified  vanity.  He  writes  in  a MS.  let- 
ter, dated  from  London  in  1831,  of  the  excessive 
and  noisy  admiration  to  which  he  was  subjected 
in  the  London  streets,  which  left  him  no  peace, 
and  actually  blocked  his  passage  to  and  from  the 
theatre.  “ Although  the  public  curiosity  to  see 
me,”  says  he,  “is  long  since  satisfied ; though  I 
have  played  in  public  at  least  thirty  times,  and  my 
likeness  has  been  reproduced  in  all  possible  styles 
and  forms,  yet  I can  never  leave  my  home  with- 
out being  mobbed  by  people  who  are  not  content 
with  following  and  jostling  me,  but  actually  get  in 
front  of  me,  and  prevent  my  going  either  way,  ad- 
dress me  in  English  of  which  I don’t  know  a word, 
and  even  feel  me  as  if  to  find  out  if  I am  made 
of  flesh  and  blood.  And  this  is  not  only  among  the 
common  people,  but  among  the  upper  classes.” 
Paganini  repeated  his  visit  to  England  during  the 
next  season,  playing  his  final  farewell  concert  at 
the  Victoria  Theatre,  London,  June  17,  1832. 
The  two  following  years  our  artist  lived  in  Paris, 


118  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


and  was  the  great  lion  of  musical  and  social  circles. 
People  professed  to  be  as  much  charmed  with  his 
lack  of  pretension,  his  naive  and  simple  manners, 
as  with  his  musical  genius.  Yet  no  man  was  more 
exacting  of  his  rights  as  an  artist.  One  day  a 
court  concert  was  announced  at  the  Tuilleries,  at 
which  Paganini  was  asked  to  play.  He  consented, 
and  went  to  examine  the  room  the  day  before.  He 
objected  to  the  numerous  curtains,  so  hung  as  to 
deaden  the  sound,  and  requested  the  superintend- 
ent to  see  that  they  were  changed.  The  super- 
cilious official  ignored  the  artist’s  wish,  and  the 
offended  Paganini  determined  not  to  play.  When 
the  hour  of  the  concert  arrived,  there  was  no  vio- 
linist. The  royalties  and  their  attendants  were 
all  seated  ; murmurs  arose,  but  still  no  Paganini. 
At  last  an  official  was  sent  to  the  hotel  of  the  ar- 
tist, only  to  be  informed  that  the  great  violinist 
had  not  gone  out , hut  that  he  went  to  hed  very  early . 

It  was  during  his  residence  in  Paris  in  the  win- 
ter of  1834  that  he  proposed  to  Berlioz,  for  whom 
he  had  the  most  cordial  esteem  and  admiration, 
to  write  a concerto  for  his  Stradiuarius  violin, 
which  resulted  in  the  famous  symphony  “ Ha- 
rold en  Italie.”  Four  years  after  this  he  bestowed 
the  sum  of  twenty  thousand  francs  on  Berlioz, 
who  was  then  in  pressing  need,  delicately  disguis- 
ing the  donation  as  a testimonial  of  his  admira- 
tion for  the  “ Symphonie  Fantastique.”  Though 
the  eagerness  of  Paganini  to  make  money  urged 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


117 


him  to  labor  for  years  while  his  health  was  exceed- 
ingly frail,  and  though  he  was  justly  stigmatized 
as  penurious  in  many  ways,  he  was  capable  of 
princely  generosity  on  occasions  which  appealed 
strongly  to  the  ardent  sympathies  which  lay  at 
the  bottom  of  his  nature. 

Paganini  made  a great  fortune  by  the  exercise 
of  his  art,  and  in  1834  purchased,  among  other 
property  in  his  native  country,  a charming  coun- 
try seat  called  Villa  Gajona,  near  Parma.  Here 
he  spent  two  years  in  comparative  quiet,  though 
still  continuing  to  give  concerts.  At  this  period 
and  for  some  time  previous  many  music-sellers 
had  striven  to  buy  the  copyright  of  his  works. 
But  Paganini  put  a price  on  it  which  was  prescrip- 
tive, the  probability  being  that  he  did  not  wish 
his  compositions  to  pass  out  of  his  hands  till  he 
had  given  up  his  career  on  the  concert  stage. 
He  was  willing  that  they  should  be  arranged  for 
the  piano,  but  not  published  as  violin  music. 

After  his  return  to  Italy  Paganini  gave  sev- 
eral most  successful  concerts,  among  others,  one 
for  the  poor  at  Placentia,  on  the  14th  of  No- 
vember, 1834,  and  another  at  the  court  of  the 
Duchess  of  Parma,  in  the  December  following. 
But  his  health  was  already  giving  way  most  visi- 
bly. Phthisis  of  the  larynx,  which  rendered  him 
a mere  shadow  of  his  former  self,  and  sometimes 
almost  deprived  him  of  speech,  had  been  gaining 
ground  since  his  return  to  his  native  climate.  In 


118  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

1836,  however,  lie  was  better,  and  some  unscrupu- 
lous Parisian  speculators  induced  him  to  lend  his 
name  to  a joint-stock  undertaking,  a sort  of  gam- 
bling-room and  concert-hall,  which  they  called 
the  Casino  Paganini.  This  was  duly  opened  in  a 
fashionable  part  of  Paris  in  1837  ; but,  as  the  Gov- 
ernment would  not  allow  the  establishment  to  be 
used  as  a gambling-house,  and  the  concerts  did 
not  pay  the  expenses,  it  became  a great  failure, 
and  the  illustrious  artist  actually  suffered  loss  by 
it  to  the  extent  of  forty  thousand  francs. 

One  of  his  last,  if  not  his  very  last,  concert  was 
given  with  the  guitar-player,  Signor  Legnani,  at 
Turin,  on  the  9th  of  June,  1837,  for  the  benefit 
of  the  poor.  He  was  then  on  his  way  to  ful- 
fill his  engagements  at  the  fatal  Parisian  casino, 
which  opened  with  much  splendor  in  the  Novem- 
ber following.  But  his  health  had  again  broken 
down,  and  the  fatigue  of  the  journey  had  told 
upon  him  so  much  that  he  was  unable  to  appear 
at  the  casino.  When  the  enterprise  was  found 
to  be  a failure,  a pettifogging  lawsuit  was  carried 
on  against  him,  and,  according  to  Fetis,  who  is 
very  explicit  on  this  subject,  the  French  judges 
condemned  him  to  pay  the  aforesaid  forty  thou- 
sand francs*  and  to  be  deprived  of  his  liberty  until 
that  amount  was  paid — all  this  without  hearing 
his  defense  ! 

The  career  of  Paganini  was  at  this  critical  pe- 
riod fast  drawing  to  a close*  His  medical  advis- 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


119 


ers  recommended  him  to  return  at  once  to  the 
South,  fearing  that  the  winter  would  kill  him  in 
Paris.  He  died  at  Nice  on  May  27,  1840,  aged 
fifty-six  years.  He  left  to  his  legitimized  son 
Achille,  the  offspring  of  his  liaison  with  the  singer 
Antonia  Bianchi,  a fortune  of  eighty  thousand 
pounds,  and  the  title  of  baron,  of  which  he  had 
received  the  patent  in  Germany.  His  beautiful 
Guarnerius  violin,  the  vehicle  of  so  many  splen- 
did artistic  triumphs,  he  bequeathed  to  the  town 
of  Genoa,  where  he  was  born.  Though  Paganini 
was  superstitious,  and  died  a son  of  Holy  Church, 
he  did  not  leave  any  money  in  religious  bequests, 
nor  did  he  even  receive  the  last  sacraments.  The 
authorities  of  Rome  raised  many  difficulties  about 
the  funeral,  and  it  was  only  after  an  enormous 
amount  of  trouble  and  expense  that  Achille  was 
able  to  have  a solemn  service  to  the  memory  of 
his  father  performed  at  Parma.  It  was  five  years 
after  Paganini’s  death  that  this  occurred,  and  per- 
mission was  obtained  to  have  the  body  removed 
to  holy  ground  in  the  village  churchyard  near  the 
Villa  Gajona.  During  this  long  period  the  dis- 
honored remains  of  the  illustrious  musician  were 
at  the  hospital  of  Nice,  where  the  body  had  been 
embalmed,  and  afterward  at  a country  place  near 
Genoa,  belonging  to  the  family.  The  supersti- 
tious peasantry  believed  that  strange  noises  were 
heard  about  the  grave  at  night — the  wailings  of 
the  unsatisfied  spirit  of  Paganini  over  the  unsanc- 
9 


120  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


tilled  burial  of  its  earthly  shell.  It  was  to  end 
these  painful  stories  that  the  young  baron  made  a 
final  determined  effort  to  placate  the  ecclesiastical 
authorities. 

VI. 

The  singular  personality  of  Paganini  displayed 
itself  in  his  private  no  less  than  in  his  artistic 
life,  and  a few  out  of  the  many  anecdotes  told  of 
him  will  be  of  interest,  as  throwing  fresh  light 
on  the  man.  Paganini  was  accused  of  being  self- 
ish and  miserly,  of  caring  little  even  for  his  art, 
except  as  a means  of  accumulating  money.  While 
there  is  much  in  his  life  to  justify  such  an  indict- 
ment, it  is  no  less  true  that  he  on  many  occa- 
sions displayed  great  generosity.  He  was  always 
willing  to  give  concerts  for  the  benefit  of  his 
fellow-artists  and  for  other  charitable  purposes, 
and  on  more  than  one  occasion  bestowed  large 
sums  of  money  for  the  relief  of  distress.  We  may 
assume  that  he  was  niggardly  by  habit  and  gener- 
ous by  impulse.  Utterly  ignorant  of  everything 
except  the  art  of  music,  bred  under  the  most  un- 
fortunate and  demoralizing  conditions,  the  fact, 
that  his  character  was,  on  the  whole,  so  naive  and 
upright,  speaks  eloquently  for  the  native  qualities 
of  his  disposition.  His  eccentricities,  perhaps,  jus- 
tified the  unreasoning  vulgar  in  believing  that  lie 
was  slightly  crazed.  His  appearance  and  manner 
on  the  platform  were  fantastic  in  the  extreme, 
and  rarely  failed  to  provoke  ridicule,  till  his  magic 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


121 


bow  turned  all  other  emotions  into  one  of  breath- 
less admiration.  He  talked  to  himself  continu- 
ally when  alone,  a habit  which  was  partly  respon- 
sible for  the  popular  belief  that  he  was  always 
attended  by  a familiar  demon.  When  a stranger 
was  introduced  to  him,  his  corpse-like  face  be- 
came galvanized  into  a ghastly  smile,  which  pro- 
duced a singular  impression,  half  fascinating, 
half  repulsive.  He  was  taciturn  in  society,  ex- 
cept among  his  intimates,  when  his  buoyant  spir- 
its bubbled  out  in  the  most  amusing  jokes  and 
anecdotes  expressed  in  a polyglot  tongue,  for  he 
never  knew  any  language  well  except  his  own. 
Naturally  irritable,  his  quick  temper  was  inflamed 
by  intestinal  disease,  which  racked  him  with  a suf- 
fering that  was  aggravated  by  a nostrum,  in  the 
use  of  which  he  indulged  freely.  Indeed,  it  was 
said  by  his  friends  that  his  death  was  accelerated 
by  his  devotion  to  medical  quackery,  from  a be- 
lief in  which  no  arguments  could  wean  him. 

To  his  fellow-artists  he  was  always  polite  and 
attentive,  though  they  annoyed  him  by  their 
persistent  curiosity  as  to  the  means  by  which 
he  produced  his  unrivaled  effects — effects  which 
the  established  technique  of  violin-playing  could 
not  explain.  An  Englishman  named  George 
Harris,  who  was  an  attache  of  the  Hanoverian 
court,  attended  Paganini  for  a year  as  his  pri- 
vate secretary,  and  he  asserts  that  Paganini  was 
never  seen  to  practice  a single  note  of  music  in 


122  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


private.  His  astonishing  dexterity  was  kept  up 
to  its  pitch  by  the  numerous  concerts  which  he 
gave,  and  by  his  exquisitely  delicate  organization. 
He  was  accustomed  to  say  that  his  whole  early 
life  had  been  one  of  prodigious  and  continual 
study,  and  that  he  could  afford  to  repose  in  after 
years.  Paganini’s  knowledge  of  music  was  pro- 
found and  exact,  and  the  most  difficult  music 
was  mere  child’s  play  to  him.  Pasini,  a well- 
known  painter,  living  at  Parma,  did  not  believe 
the  stories  told  of  Paganini’s  ability  to  play  the 
most  difficult  music  at  sight.  Being  the  possessor 
of  a valuable  Stradiuarius  violin,  he  challenged 
our  artist  to  play,  at  first  hand,  a manuscript 
concerto  which  he  placed  before  him.  “This 
instrument  shall  be  yours,”  he  said,  “if  you  can 
play,  in  a masterly  manner,  that  concerto  at  first 
sight.”  The  Genoese  took  the  violin  in  his  hand, 
saying,  “In  that  case,  my  friend,  you  may  bid 
adieu  to  it  at  once,”  and  he  immediately  threw 
Pasini  into  ecstatic  admiration  by  his  perform- 
ance of  the  piece.  There  is  little  doubt  that  this 
is  the  Stradiuarius  instrument  left  by  Paganini  to 
his  son,  and  valued  at  about  six  hundred  pounds 
sterling. 

Of  Antonia  Bianchi,  the  mother  of  his  son 
Achille,  Paganini  tells  us  that,  after  many  years 
of  a most  devoted  life,  the  lady’s  temper  became 
so  violent  that  a separation  was  necessary.  “An- 
tonia was  constantly  tormented,”  he  says,  “by 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


123 


the  most  fearful  jealousy.  One  day  she  happened 
to  be  behind  my  chair  when  I was  writing  some 
lines  in  the  album  of  a great  pianiste,  and,  when 
she  read  the  few  amiable  words  I had  composed 
in  honor  of  the  artist  to  whom  the  book  belonged, 
she  tore  it  from  my  hands,  demolished  it  on  the 
spot,  and,  so  fearful  was  her  rage,  would  have  as- 
sassinated me.” 

He  was  very  fond  of  his  little  son  Achille. 
A French  gentleman  tells  us  that  he  called  once 
to  take  Paganini  to  dine  with  him.  He  found 
the  artist’s  room  in  great  disorder.  A violin  on 
the  table  with  manuscript  music,  another  upon  a 
chair,  a snuff-box  on  the  bed  along  with  his  child’s 
toys,  music,  money,  letters,  articles  of  dress — all 
pele-mele  ; nor  were  the  tables  and  chairs  in  their 
proper  places.  Everything  was  in  the  most  con- 
spicuous confusion.  The  child  was  out  of  tem- 
per ; something  had  vexed  him  ; he  had  been  told 
to  wash  his  hands  ; and,  while  the  little  one  gave 
vent  to  the  most  violent  bursts  of  temper,  the 
father  stood  as  calm  and  quiet  as  the  most  accom- 
plished of  nurses.  He  merely  turned  quietly  to 
his  visitor,  and  said,  in  melancholy  accents  : “ The 
poor  child  is  cross  ; I do  not  know  what  to  do  to 
amuse  him  ; I have  played  with  him  ever  since 
morning,  and  I can  not  stand  it  any  longer.” 

“ It  was  rather  amusing,”  says  the  same  writer, 
“ to  see  Paganini  in  his  slippers  doing  battle  with 
his  child,  who  came  about  up  to  his  knees.  The 


124  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

little  one  advanced  boldly  with  his  wooden  sword, 
while  the  father  retired,  crying  out,  6 Enough, 
enough  ! I am  already  wounded.’  But  it  was  not 
enough  ; the  young  Achilles  was  never  satisfied 
until  his  father,  completely  vanquished,  fell  heav- 
ily on  the  bed.  ” 

In  the  early  part  of  the  present  century  the 
facilities  for  travel  were  far  less  convenient  than  at 
the  present  time,  and  it  was  always  an  arduous 
undertaking  to  one  in  Paganini’s  frail  condition  of 
health.  He  was,  however,  generally  cheerful  while 
jolting  along  in  the  post-chaise,  and  chatted  in- 
cessantly as  long  as  his  voice  held  out.  Harris 
tells  us  that  the  artist  was  in  the  habit  of  getting 
out  when  the  horses  were  changed,  to  stretch  his 
" long  limbs  after  the  confinement  of  the  carriage. 
Often  he  extended  his  promenades  when  he  be- 
came interested  in  the  town  through  which  he 
was  passing,  and  would  not  return  till  long  after 
the  fresh  horses  had  been  harnessed,  thereby  caus- 
ing much  annoyance  to  the  driver.  On  one  occa- 
sion Jehu  swore,  if  it  occurred  again,  he  would 
drive  on,  and  leave  his  passenger  behind,  to  get 
along  as  best  he  could.  The  secretary,  Harris, 
was  enjoying  a nap,  and  the  driver  was  true  to  his 
resolution  at  the  next  stopping-place,  leaving 
Paganini  behind.  This  made  much  trouble,  and 
a special  coach  had  to  be  sent  for  the  enraged  ar- 
tist, who  was  found  sputtering  oaths  in  half  a 
dozen  languages.  Paganini  refused  to  pay  for 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


125 


the  carriage,  and  it  was  only  by  force  of  law  that 
he  reluctantly  settled  the  bill. 

His  baggage  was  always  of  the  plainest  de- 
scription ; in  fact,  ludicrously  simple.  A shabby 
box  contained  bis  precious  Guarnerius  fiddle,  and 
served  also  as  a portmanteau  wherein  to  pack  his 
jewelry,  his  linen,  and  sundry  trifles.  In  ad- 
dition to  this  he  carried  a small  traveling-bag  and 
a hat-box.  Mr.  Harris  tells  us  that  Paganini  was 
in  eating  and  drinking  exceedingly  frugal.  Ta- 
ble indulgence  was  forbidden  him  by  the  condi- 
tion of  his  health,  as  any  deviation  from  the  strict- 
est diet  resulted  in  great  suffering.  He  was  a 
thorough  Italian  in  all  his  habits  and  ideas. 
Among  other  traits  was  a great  disdain  for  the 
lower  classes,  though  he  was  by  no  means  subset 
vient  to  people  of  rank  and  wealth.  It  was  his 
habit,  when  an  inferior  addressed  him,  to  inquire 
of  his  companion,  “ What  does  this  animal  want 
with  me  ? ” If  he  was  pleased  with  his  coachman, 
he  would  say,  “ That  animal  drives  well.”  This 
seemed  not  so  much  the  vulgar  arrogance  of  a 
small  nature,  elevated  above  the  class  in  life  from 
which  it  sprang,  as  that  pride  of  great  gifts  which 
made  the  freemasonry  of  genius  the  measure  by 
which  he  judged  all  others,  noble  and  simple. 
Like  all  men  of  highly  nervous  constitution,  he 
was  keenly  susceptible  to  both  enjoyment  and 
suffering.  He  was  so  sensitive  to  atmospheric 
changes  that  his  irritability  was  excessive  during 


126  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

a thunderstorm.  He  would  then  remain  silent 
for  hours  together,  while  his  eyes  rolled  and  his 
limbs  twitched  convulsively.  Such  fragile,  ner- 
vous, highly  sensitive  organizations  are  not  unfre- 
quently  characteristic  of  men  of  great  genius,  and 
in  the  great  Italian  violinist  it  was  developed  in 
an  abnormal  degree. 

The  circumstances  accompanying  the  last 
scenes  of  Paganini’s  life  are  very  interesting.  He 
had  been  intimate  with  most  of  the  great  people 
of  Europe,  among  them  Lord  Byron,  Sir  Clifford 
Constable,  Lord  Holland,  Bossini,  Ugo  Fascolo, 
Monti,  Prince  Jerome,  the  Princess  Eliza,  and 
most  of  the  great  painters,  poets,  and  musicians 
of  his  age.  For  Lord  Byron  he  had  a most  ar- 
dent and  exaggerated  admiration.  Paganini  had 
stopped  at  Nice  on  his  way  from  Paris,  detained 
by  extreme  debility,  for  his  last  hours  were  draw- 
ing near.  Under  the  blue  sky  and  balmy  air  of 
this  Mediterranean  paradise  the  great  musician 
somewhat  recovered  his  strength  at  first.  One 
night  he  sat  by  his  bedroom  window,  surrounded 
by  a circle  of  intimate  friends,  watching  the  glo- 
ries of  the  Italian  sunset  that  emblazoned  earth, 
air,  and  sky,  with  the  richest  dyes  of  nature’s 
palette.  A soft  breeze  swept  into  the  room,  heavy 
with  the  perfumes  of  flowers,  and  the  twittering 
of  the  birds  in  the  green  foliage  mingled  with  the 
hum  of  talk  from  the  throngs  of  gay  promenaders 
sauntering  on  the  beach.  For  a while  Paganini 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


127 


sat  silently  absorbed  in  watching  the  joyous  scene, 
when  suddenly  his  eyes  turned  on  the  picture  of 
Lord  Byron  that  hung  on  the  wall.  A flash 
of  enthusiasm  lightened  his  face,  as  if  a great 
thought  were  struggling  to  the  surface,  and  he 
seized  his  yiolin  to  improvise.  The  listeners  de- 
clared that  this  “swan  song”  was  the  most  re- 
markable production  of  his  life.  He  illustrated 
the  stormy  and  romantic  career  of  the  English 
poet  in  music.  The  accents  of  doubt,  irony, 
and  despair  mingled  with  the  cry  of  liberty  and 
the  tumult  of  triumph.  Paganini  had  scarcely 
finished  this  wonderful  musical  picture  when  the 
bow  fell  from  the  icy  fingers  that  refused  any 
longer  to  perform  their  function,  and  the  player 
sank  into  a dead  swoon. 

The  shock  had  been  too  great,  and  Paganini 
never  quitted  his  bed  afterward.  The  day  before 
his  death  he  seemed  a little  better,  and  directed 
his  servant  to  buy  a pigeon  for  him,  as  he  had  a 
slight  return  of  appetite.  On  the  last  evening  of 
his  life  he  seemed  very  tranquil,  and  ordered  the 
curtains  to  be  drawn  that  he  might  look  out  of 
the  window  at  the  beautiful  night.  The  full 
moon  was  sailing  through  the  skies,  flooding  ev- 
erything with  splendor.  Paganini  gazed  eagerly, 
gave  a long  sigh  of  pleasure,  and  fell  back  on  his 
pillow  dead. 


128  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


VII. 

Paganini  was  the  first  to  develop  the  full 
resources  of  the  violin  as  a solo  instrument.  He 
departed  entirely  from  the  traditions  of  violin- 
playing as  practiced  by  earlier  masters,  as  he  be- 
lieved that  great  fame  could  never  be  acquired  in 
pursuing  their  methods.  A work  of  Locatelli,  one 
of  the  cleverest  pupils  of  Corelli,  and  a great  mas- 
ter of  technique,  first  seems  to  have  inspired  him 
with  a conception  of  the  more  brilliant  possibilities 
of  the  violin.  What  further  favored  Paganini’s  new 
departure  was  that  he  lived  in  an  age  when  the 
artistic  mind,  as  well  as  thought  in  other  direc- 
tions, felt  the  desire  of  innovation.  The  French 
Kevolution  stirred  Europe  to  its  deepest  roots,  in- 
tellectually as  well  as  politically.  At  a very  early 
date  in  his  career  Paganini  seems  to  have  begun 
experimenting  with  the  new  effects  for  which  he 
became  famous,  though  these  did  not  reach  their 
full  fruitage  until  just  before  he  left  Italy  on  his 
first  general  tour.  Fetis  says  : “In  adopting  the 
ideas  of  his  predecessors,  in  resuscitating  forgot- 
ten effects,  in  superadding  what  his  genius  and 
perseverance  gave  birth  to,  he  arrived  at  that 
distinctive  character  of  performance  which  con- 
tributed to  his  ultimate  greatness.  The  diversity 
of  sounds,  the  different  methods  of  tuning  his 
instrument,  the  frequent  employment  of  har- 
monics, single  and  double,  the  simultaneous  pizzi- 
cato and  bow  passages,  the  various  staccato  ef- 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


129 


fects,  the  use  of  double  and  even  triple  notes,  a 
prodigious  facility  in  executing  wide  intervals 
with  unerring  precision,  together  with  an  extraor- 
dinary knowledge  of  all  styles  of  bowing — such 
were  the  principal  features  of  Paganini's  talent, 
rendered  all  the  more  perfect  by  his  great  execu- 
tion, exquisitely  nervous  sensibility,  and  his  deep 
musical  feeling.”  In  a word,  Paganini  possessed 
the  most  remarkable  creative  power  in  the  techni- 
cal treatment  of  an  instrument  ever  given  to  a 
player.  Franz  Liszt  as  a pianist  approaches  him 
more  nearly  in  this  respect  than  any  other  virtuoso, 
but  the  field  open  to  the  violinist  was  far  greater 
and  wider  than  that  offered  to  the  great  Hunga- 
rian pianist.  It  was  not,  however,  mere  perfection 
of  technical  power  that  threw  Europe  into  such 
paroxysms  of  admiration  ; it  was  the  irresistible 
power  of  a genius  which  has  never  been  matched, 
and  which  almost  justified  the  vulgar  conclusion 
that  none  but  one  possessed  with  a demon  could 
do  such  things.  Paganini  possessed  the  oft-quoted 
attribute  of  genius,  “the  power  of  taking  infinite 
pains,”  but  behind  this  there  lay  superlative  gifts 
of  mind,  physique,  and  temperament.  He  com- 
pletely dazzled  the  greatest  musical  artists  as  well 
as  the  masses.  “ His  constant  and  daring  flights,” 
writes  Moscheles,  “his  newly  discovered  flageolet 
tones,  his  gift  of  fusing  and'beautifying  objects  of 
the  most  diverse  kinds— all  these  phases  of  genius 
so  completely  bewilder  my  musical  perceptions 


130  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


that  for  days  afterward  my  head  is  on  fire  and 
my  brain  reels.”  His  tone  lacked  roundness  and 
volume.  His  use  of  very  thin  strings,  made  ne- 
cessary by  his  double  harmonics  and  other  special- 
ties, necessarily  prevented  a broad,  rich  tone.  But 
he  more  than  compensated  for  this  defect  by  the 
intense  expression,  “ soft  and  melting  as  that  of  an 
Italian  singer,”  to  use  the  language  of  Moscheles 
again,  which  characterized  the  quality  of  sound 
he  drew  from  his  instrument.  Spohr,  a very 
great  player,  but,  with  all  his  polish,  precision,  and 
classical  beauty  of  style,  somewhat  phlegmatic  and 
conventional  withal,  critcised  Paganini  as  lacking 
in  good  taste.  He  could  never  get  in  sympathy 
with  the  bent  of  individuality,  the  Southern  pas- 
sion and  fire,  and  the  exceptional  gifts  of  tempera- 
ment which  made  Paganini’s  idiosyncrasies  of 
style  as  a player  consummate  beauties,  where  imi- 
tations of  these  effects  on  the  part  of  others  would 
be  gross  exaggeration.  Spohr  developed  the 
school  of  Viotti  and  Rode,  and  in  his  attachment 
to  that  school  could  see  no  artistic  beauty  in  any 
deviation.  Paganini’s  peculiar  method  of  treat- 
ing the  violin  has  never  been  regarded  as  a safe 
school  for  any  other  violinist  to  follow.  Without 
Paganini’s  genius  to  give  it  vitality,  his  technique 
would  justly  be  charged  with  exaggeration  and 
charlatanism.  Some  of  the  modern  French  play- 
ers, who  have  been  strongly  influenced  by  the 
great  Italian,  have  failed  to  satisfy  serious  mush 


NICOLO  PAGANINI. 


131 


cal  taste  from  this  cause.  On  the  German  violin- 
ists he  has  had  but  little  influence,  owing  to  the 
powerful  example  of  Spohr  and  the  musical  spirit 
of  the  great  composers,  which  have  tended  to  keep 
players  within  the  strictly  legitimate  lines  of  art. 
Some  of  the  principal  compositions  of  Paganini 
are  marked  by  great  originality  and  beauty,  and 
are  violin  classics.  Schumann  and  Liszt  have 
transcribed  several  of  them  for  the  piano,  and 
Brahms  for  the  orchestra.  But  the  great  glory 
of  Paganini  was  as  a virtuoso,  not  as  a composer, 
and  it  has  been  generally  agreed  to  place  him  on 
the  highest  pedestal  which  has  yet  been  reached 
in  the  executive  art  of  the  violin. 


DE  BERIOT. 


De  Beriot’s  High  Place  in  the  Art  of  the  Violin  and  Violin  Music. 
— The  Scion  of  an  Impoverished  Noble  Family. — Early  Edu- 
cation and  Musical  Training. — He  seeks  the  Advice  of  Viotti 
in  Paris. — Becomes  a Pupil  of  Robrechts  and  Bail  lot  succes- 
sively.— De  Beriot  finishes  and  perfects  his  Style  on  his 
Own  Model. — Great  Success  in  England. — Artistic  Travels  in 
Europe. — Becomes  Soloist  to  the  King  of  the  Netherlands. — 
He  meets  Malibran,  the  Great  Cantatrice,  in  Paris.— Peculiar 
Circumstances  which  drew  the  Couple  toward  Each  Other. — 
They  form  a Connection  which  only  ends  with  Malibran’ s 
Life. — Sketch  of  Malibran  and  her  Family. — The  Various 
Artistic  Journeys  of  Malibran  and  De  Beriot. — Their  Marriage 
and  Mine,  de  Beriot’s  Death. — De  Beriot  becomes  Professor 
in  the  Brussels  Conservatoire. — His  Later  Life  in  Brussels. — 
His  Son  Charles  Malibran  de  Beriot. — The  Character  of  De 
Beriot  as  Composer  and  Player. 

I. 

Among  the  great  players  contemporary  with 
Paganini,  the  name  of  Charles  Auguste  de  Beriot 
shines  in  the  musical  horizon  with  the  luster  of  a 
star  of  the  first  magnitude.  His  influence  on 
music  has  been  one  of  unmistakable  import,  for 
he  has  perpetuated  his  great  talents  through  the 
number  of  gifted  pupils  who  graduated  from  his 
teachings  and  gathered  an  inspiration  from  an 
artist-master,  in  whom  were  united  splendid 
gifts  as  a player,  an  earnest  musical  spirit,  depth 


DE  BERIOT. 


133 


and  precision  of  science,  the  chivalry  of  high 
birth  and  breeding,  and  a width  of  intellectual 
culture  which  would  have  dignified  the  littera- 
teur or  scholar.  De  Beriot  was  for  many  years 
the  chief  of  the  violin  department  at  the  Brussels 
Conservatoire,  where,  even  before  the  revolution 
of  1830,  there  was  one  of  the  finest  schools  of 
instruction  for  stringed  instruments  to  be  found 
in  Europe.  When  in  the  full  ripeness  of  his  fame 
as  a virtuoso  and  composer,  De  Beriot  was  called 
on  to  take  charge  of  the  violin  section  of  this 
great  institution,  and  his  influence  has  thus  been 
transmitted  in  the  world  of  art  in  a degree  by  no 
means  limited  to  his  direct  greatness  as  an  exec- 
utant. 

De  Beriot  was  born  at  Louvain,  in  1802,  of  a no- 
ble family,  which  had  been  impoverished  through 
the  crash  and  turmoil  of  the  French  Revolution. 
Left  an  orphan  at  the  age  of  nine  years,  without 
inheritance  except  that  of  a high  spirit  and  family 
pride,  he  would  have  fared  badly  in  these  early 
years,  had  it  not  been  for  the  kindness  of  M.  Tiby, 
a professor  of  music,  who  perceived  the  child’s 
latent  talent,  and  he  acquired  skill  in  playing  so 
rapidly  that  he  was  able  to  play  one  of  Yiotti’s 
concertos  at  the  age  of  nine.  His  hearers,  many 
of  whom  were  connoisseurs,  were  delighted,  and 
prophesied  for  him  the  great  career  which  made 
the  name  of  De  Beriot  famous.  Naturally  of  a 
contemplative  and  thoughtful  mind,  he  lost  no 


134  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


time  in  studying  not  only  the  art  of  violin-play- 
ing but  also  acquiring  proficiency  in  general 
branches  of  knowledge.  His  theories  of  an  art 
ideal  even  at  that  early  age  were  far  more  lofty  and 
earnest  than  that  which  generally  guides  the  as- 
pirations of  musicians.  De  Beriot,  in  after  years, 
attributed  many  of  the  elevated  ideas  which  from 
this  time  guided  his  life  to  the  influence  of  the 
well-known  scholar  and  philosopher  Jacotot,  who, 
though  a poor  musician  himself,  had  very  clear 
ideas  as  to  the  aesthetic  and  moral  foundations  on 
which  art  success  must  be  built.  The  text-book, 
Jacotot’s  “Method,”  fell  early  into  the  young 
musician’s  hand,  and  imbued  him  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  self-reliance,  earnestness,  and  patience 
which  helped  to  model  his  life,  and  contributed 
to  the  remarkable  proficiency  in  his  art  on  which 
his  fame  rests.  Two  golden  principles  were  im- 
pressed on  De  Beriot’s  mind  from  these  teach- 
ings : “All  obstacles  yield  to  unwearied  pursuit,” 
and  “We  are  not  ordinarily  willing  to  do  all  that 
we  are  really  able  to  accomplish.  ” In  after  years 
De  Beriot  met  Jacotot,  and  had  the  pleasure  of 
acknowledging  the  deep  obligation  under  which 
he  felt  himself  bound. 

In  1821  young  Charles  de  Beriot  had  attained 
the  age  of  nineteen,  and  it  was  determined  that 
he  should  leave  his  native  town  and  go  to  Paris, 
where  he  could  receive  the  teachings  of  the  great 
masters  of  the  violin.  At  this  time  he  was  a 


DE  BERIOT. 


135 


handsome  youth  with  a strongly  knit  figure, 
somewhat  above  the  middle  height,  with  fine, 
dark  eyes  and  hair,  a florid  complexion,  and  very 
gentlemanly  appearance.  Good  blood  and  breed- 
ing displayed  themselves  in  every  movement,  and 
ardent  hope  shone  in  his  face.  He  resided  for 
several  months  in  Brussels,  which  was  afterward 
to  be  his  home,  and  associated  with  the  scenes  of 
his  greatest  usefulness,  and  then  pursued  his  eager 
way  to  Paris  with  a letter  of  introduction  to  Viotti, 
then  director  of  music  at  the  Grand  Opera.  De 
Beriot’s  ambition  was  to  play  before  the  veteran 
violinist  of  Europe,  and  to  feed  his  own  hopes  on 
the  great  master’s  praise  and  encouragement. 

“You  have  a fine  style,”  said  Viotti;  “give 
yourself  up  to  the  business  of  perfecting  it ; hear 
all  men  of  talent ; profit  by  everything,  but  imi- 
tate nothing.”  There  was  at  this  time  in  Brus- 
sels a violinist  named  Eobrechts,  a former  pupil 
of  Viotti,  and  one  of  the  last  artists  who  derived 
instruction  directly  from  the  celebrated  Italian. 
Andreas  Eobrechts  was  born  at  Brussels  on  the 
18th  of  December,  1797,  and  made  rapid  progress 
as  a musician  under  Planken,  a professor,  who, 
like  the  late  M.  Wery,  who  succeeded  him,  formed 
many  excellent  pupils.  He  then  entered  himself 
at  the  Conservatoire  of  Paris  in  1814,  where  he 
received  some  private'  lessons  from  Baillot,  while 
the  institution  itself  was  closed  during  the  occu- 
pation by  the  allied  armies. 

10 


136  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

Viotti,  hearing  the  young  Eobrechts  play,  was 
so  struck  with  his  magnificent  tone  and  broad 
style  that  he  undertook  to  give  him  finishing  les- 
sons, with  the  approbation  of  Baillot.  This  was 
soon  arranged,  and  for  many  years  the  two  violin- 
ists were  inseparable.  He  even  accompanied  Viotti 
in  his  journey  to  London,  where  they  were  heard 
more  than  once  in  duets.  The  illustrious  Ital- 
ian had  recognized  in  Eobrechts  the  pupil  who 
most  closely  adhered  to  his  style  of  playing,  and 
one  of  the  few  who  were  likely  to  diffuse  it  in 
after  years. 

In  1820  Eobrechts  returned  to  Brussels,  where 
he  was  elected  first  violin  solo  to  the  king,  Wil- 
helm 1.  It  was  shortly  after  this  that  De  Beriot 
took  lessons  from  him,  and  he  it  was  who  gave  him 
the  letter  of  introduction  to  Viotti.  The  same 
excellent  professor  also  gave  instructions  to  the 
young  Artot.  He  died  in  1860,  the  last  direct 
representative  of  the  great  Viotti  school. 

It  will  now  be  seen  where  De  Beriot  acquired 
the  first  principles  of  that  large,  bold,  and  ex- 
quisitely charming  style  that  in  after  life  charac- 
terized both  his  performances  and  his  composi- 
tions. 

II. 

Arriving  at  Paris,  and  believing  probably  that 
the  classical  style  of  Eobrechts,  from  whom  he 
had  had  instruction  in  Brussels,  did  not  lead  him 
swiftly  forward  enough  in  the  path  he  would 


DE  BERIOT. 


137 


travel,  he  sought  Viotti,  as  we  have  related  above, 
and  by  his  advice  entered  himself  in  the  violin 
class  of  the  Conservatoire,  which  was  directed  by 
Baillot,  an  eminent  player  of  the  Viotti  school, 
though  never  a direct  pupil  of  the  latter  master. 
De  Beriot,  however,  did  not  remain  long  in  the 
class,  but  applied  himself  most  assiduously  to  the 
study  of  the  violin  in  his  own  way.  This  is  what 
Paganini  had  done,  and  through  this  course  had 
been  able  to  form  a style  so  peculiarly  his  own.  It 
is  not  probable  that  De  Beriot  at  this  time  knew 
much  about  Paganini ; certainly  he  had  never  heard 
him.  Paganini  was  at  first  looked  on  as  a mere 
comet  of  extraordinary  brilliancy,  without  much 
soundness  or  true  genius,  and  many  who  after- 
ward became  his  most  ardent  admirers  began  with 
sneering  at  his  pretensions.  De  Beriot  was  in 
later  years  undoubtedly  powerfully  influenced  by 
Paganini,  but  at  the  time  of  which  we  speak  the 
young  violinist  appears  to  have  been  determined 
to  evolve  a style  and  character  in  art  out  of  his 
own  resources  purely.  He  was  carrying  out  Yiot- 
ti’s  advice. 

At  this  time  our  young  artist  was  the  possessor 
of  a very  fine  instrument  by  Giovanni  Magini,  a 
celebrated  maker  of  the  Brescian  school,  and  a 
pupil  of  Gaspar  de  Salo.  Many  of  the  violins  of 
this  make  are  of  an  excellence  hardly  inferior  to 
the  Strads  of  the  best  period,  and  De  Beriot  seems 
to  have  preferred  this  violin  during  the  whole  of 


138  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

his  career,  though  he  afterward  owned  instru- 
ments of  the  most  celebrated  makers. 

Very  soon  De  Beriot  made  his  public  appear- 
ance in  concerts,  and  was  brilliantly  successful 
from  the  outset.  The  range  of  his  ambition  may 
be  seen  from  the  fact  that  he  had  enough  confi- 
dence in  his  own  genius  from  the  very  first  to  play 
his  own  music,  and  it  was  conceded  to  possess 
great  freshness  and  originality.  These  early  “ Airs 
Yarie  ” consisted  of  an  introduction,  a theme,  fol- 
lowed by  three  or  four  variations,  and  a brilliant 
finale. 

The  young  artist  preceded  Paganini  in  Lon- 
don several  years,  as  he  made  his  first  appearance 
before  an  English  audience  in  1826.  It  was  fortu- 
nate, perhaps,  for  De  Beriot  that  such  was  the  case, 
as  it  is  more  than  probable  that,  after  the  dazzling 
and  electric  displays  of  the  Geneose  player,  the 
more  sedate  and  simple  style  which  then  charac- 
terized De  Beriot  would  have  failed  to  please. 
As  it  was,  he  was  most  cordially  admired,  and  was 
generally  recognized  by  English  connoisseurs,  as 
well  as  by  the  general  public,  as  one  of  the  most 
accomplished  players  who  had  ever  visited  Eng- 
land. The  pecuniary  results  of  these  concerts 
were  large,  and  sufficient  to  relieve  De  Beriot, 
who  had  formerly  been  rather  straitened  in  his 
means,  from  the  friction  and  embarrassment  which 
poverty  so  often  imposes  on  struggling  talent. 
There  was  a peculiar  charm  in  De  Beriot’s  style 


DE  BERIOT. 


139 


which  was  permanently  characteristic  of  him, 
though  his  technical  method  did  not  always  re- 
main the  same.  In  additon  to  very  facile  execu- 
tion and  a rich,  mellow  tone,  he  possessed  the 
most  refined  taste.  His  playing  impressed  people 
less  as  that  of  a great  professional  violinist  than 
that  of  the  marvelously  accomplished  amateur, 
the  gentleman  of  leisure  and  culture,  who  per- 
formed with  the  easy,  sparkling  grace  of  one  who 
took  no  thought  of  whether  he  played  well  or  not, 
but  did  great  feats  on  his  instrument  because  he 
could  not  help  it.  Such  was  also  the  characteristic 
of  Mario  as  a singer,  and  there  seems  to  have  been 
many  features  of  resemblance  between  these  two 
fine  artists,  though  moving  in  different  fields  of 
art. 

After  traveling  through  Europe  for  several 
years,  giving  concerts  with  great  success,  he  was 
presented  to  King  Wilhelm  of  the  then  united 
kingdom  of  the  Netherlands.  This  monarch, 
though  quite  ignorant  of  music,  was  an  enthusi- 
astic patron  of  art,  and,  believing  that  De  Beriot 
was  destined  to  be  a great  ornament  of  his  native 
country  (for  he  was  born  in  Belgium,  though  his 
parents  were  from  France),  bestowed  on  the  ar- 
tist a pension  of  two  thousand  florins  a year,  and 
the  title  of  first  violin  solo  to  his  majesty.  But 
this  honor  was  soon  rudely  snatched  from  De  Be- 
riot’s  grasp.  The  revolution  of  1830,  which 
began  with  the  excitement  inflamed  in  Brussels 


140  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

by  the  performance  of  Auber’s  revolutionary 
opera,  “ La  Muette  di  Portici,”  better  known  as 
“ Masaniello,”  dissolved  the  kingdom,  and  Bel- 
gium parted  permanently  from  Holland.  It  was, 
perhaps,  owing  to  this  apparent  misfortune  that 
De  Beriot  made  an  acquaintance  which  culmi- 
nated in  the  most  interesting  episode  of  his  life. 
He  lost  his  official  position  at  Brussels,  but  he 
met  Mme.  Malibran. 

III. 

De  Beriot  returned  to  Paris,  where  Sontag 
and  Malibran  were  engaged  in  ardent  artistic 
rivalry,  about  equally  dividing  the  suffrages  of 
the  French  public.  Mile.  Sontag  was  a beautiful, 
fair-haired,  blue-eyed  woman,  in  the  very  flush 
of  her  youth,  with  an  expression  of  exquisite 
sweetness  and  mildness.  De  Beriot  became  mad- 
ly enamored  of  her  at  once,  and  pressed  his  suit 
with  vehemence,  but  without  success.  Henrietta 
Sontag  was  already  the  betrothed  of  Count 
Rossi,  whom  she  soon  afterward  married,  though 
the  engagement  was  then  a secret.  The  lady’s 
firm  refusal  of  the  young  Belgian  artist’s  over- 
tures filled  him  with  a deep  melancholy,  which 
he  showed  so  unmistakably  that  he  became  an  ob- 
ject of  solicitude  to  all  his  friends.  Among  those 
was  Mme.  Malibran,  whose  warm  sympathies  went 
out  to  an  artist  whose  talents  she  admired.  Mali- 
bran, living  apart  from  her  husband,  was  obliged 


DE  BfiRIOT. 


141 


to  be  careful  in  her  conduct,  to  avoid  giving 
food  for  the  scandal  of  a censorious  world,  but 
this  did  not  prevent  her  from  exhibiting  the  ut- 
most pity  and  kindness  in  her  demeanor  toward 
De  Beriot.  The  violinist  was  soothed  by  this 
gentle  and  delightful  companion,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  a fresh  affection,  even  stronger  than 
the  other,  sprang  up  in  his  susceptible  nature 
for  the  woman  whose  ardent  Spanish  frankness 
found  it  difficult  to  conceal  the  fact  that  she  cher- 
ished sentiments  different  from  mere  friendship. 

The  splendid  career  of  Mme.  Malibran  shines 
almost  without  a rival  in  the  records  of  the  lyric 
stage,  and  her  influence  on  De  Beriot,  first  her 
lover  and  afterward  her  husband,  was  most 
marked.  Maria  Garcia,  afterward  Mme.  Mali- 
bran, was  one  of  a family  of  very  eminent  musi- 
cians. She  was  trained  by  her  father,  Manuel 
Garcia,  who,  in  addition  to  being  a tenor  singer 
of  world- wide  reputation,  was  a composer  of  some 
repute,  and  the  greatest  teacher  of  his  time.  Her 
sister,  Pauline  Garcia,  in  after  years  became  one 
of  the  greatest  dramatic  singers  who  ever  lived, 
and  her  brother  Manuel  also  attained  considerable 
eminence  as  singer,  song-composer,  and  teacher. 
The  whole  family  were  richly  dowered  with  musi- 
cal gifts,  and  Maria  was  probably  one  of  the  most 
versatile  and  accomplished  musical  artists  of  any 
age.  At  the  age  of  thirteen  she  was  a professed 
musician,  and  at  fifteen,  when  she  came  with  her 


142  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

parents  to  London,  she  obtained  a complete  tri- 
umph by  accidentally  performing  in  Rossini’s 
“ II  Barbiere,”  to  supply  the  place  of  a prima 
donna  who  was  unable  to  appear. 

We  can  not  tarry  here  to  enter  into  the  details 
of  her  interesting  life.  Her  father  having  taken 
her  to  America,  where  she  fulfilled  a number 
of  engagements  with  an  increasing  success,  she 
finally  espoused  there  a rich  merchant  named 
Malibran,  much  older  than  herself.  It  was  a most 
ill-advised  marriage,  and,  to  make  matters  worse, 
the  merchant  failed  very  soon  afterward.  Some 
go  so  far  as  to  say  that  he  foresaw  this  catastrophe 
before  he  contracted  his  marriage,  in  the  hope  of 
regaining  his  fortune  by  the  proceeds  of  the  sing- 
er’s career.  However  that  may  be,  a separation 
took  place,  and  Mme.  Malibran  returned  to  Paris 
in  1827.  Her  singing  in  Italian  opera  was  every- 
where a source  of  the  most  enthusiastic  ovation, 
and,  as  she  rose  like  a star  of  the  first  magnitude 
in  the  world  of  song,  so  the  young  De  Beriot  was 
fast  earning  his  laurels  as  one  of  the  greatest 
violinists  of  the  day.  In  1830  an  indissoluble 
friendship  united  these  two  kindred  spirits,  and 
in  1832  De  Beriot,  Lablache,  the  great  basso,  and 
Mme.  Malibran  set  out  for  a tour  in  Italy,  where 
the  latter  had  operatic  engagements  at  Milan, 
Rome,  and  Naples,  and  where  they  all  three 
appeared  in  concerts  with  the  most  eclatant  suc- 
cess— as  may  well  be  imagined. 


DE  BiSRIOT. 


143 


At  Bologna,  in  1834,  it  is  difficult  to  say 
whether  the  cantatrice,  or  the  violinist,  or  the  in- 
estimable basso,  produced  the  greatest  sensation  ; 
but  her  bust  in  marble  was  there  and  then  placed 
under  the  peristyle  of  the  Opera-house. 

Henceforward  De  Beriot  never  quitted  her, 
and  their  affection  seems  to  have  increased  as 
time  wore  on.  In  the  year  following  she  ap- 
peared in  London,  where  she  gave  forty  repre- 
sentations at  Drury  Lane,  performing  in  64  La 
Sonnambula,”  44  The  Maid  of  Artois,”  etc.,  for 
which  she  received  the  sum  of  three  thousand 
two  hundred  pounds.  De  Beriot  would  not  have 
made  this  amount  probably  with  his  violin  in  a 
year. 

After  a second  journey  to  Italy,  in  which 
Mme.  Malibran  renewed  the  enthusiasm  which  she 
had  first  created  in  the  public  mind,  and  a series 
of  brilliant  concerts  which  also  added  to  De  Be- 
riot’s  prestige,  they  returned  to  Paris  to  wait  for 
the  divorce  of  Mme.  Malibran  from  her  husband, 
which  had  been  dragging  its  way  tl  rough  the 
courts.  The  much  longed  for  release  ccme  in  1836, 
and  the  union  of  hearts  and  lives,  whose  sincerity 
and  devotion  had  more  than  half  condoned  its 
irregularity,  was  sanctified  by  the  Church.  The 
happiness  of  the  artistic  pair  was  not  destined  to 
be  long.  Only  a month  afterward  Mme.  de  Be- 
riot, who  was  then  singing  in  London,  had  a dan- 
gerous fall  from  her  horse.  Always  passionately 


144  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

fond  of  activity  and  exercise,  she  was  an  excellent 
horsewoman,  and  was  somewhat  reckless  in  pur- 
suing her  favorite  pursuit.  The  great  singer  was 
thrown  by  an  unruly  and  badly  trained  animal, 
and  received  serious  internal  injuries.  Her  in- 
domitable spirit  would  not,  however,  permit  her 
to  rest.  She  returned  to  the  Continent  after  the 
close  of  the  London  season,  to  give  concerts,  in 
spite  cf  her  weak  health,  and  gave  herself  but 
little  chance  of  recovery,  before  she  returned 
again  to  England  in  September  to  sing  at  the 
Manchester  festival,  her  last  triumph,  and  the 
brilliant  close  of  a short  and  very  remarkable  life. 
She  was  seized  with  sudden  and  severe  illness, 
and  died  after  nine  days  of  suffering.  During 
this  period  of  trial  to  De  Beriot,  he  never  left  the 
bedside  of  his  dying  wife,  but  devoted  himself  to 
ministering  to  her  comfort,  except  once  when  she 
insisted  on  his  fulfilling  an  important  concert 
engagement.  Racked  with  pain  as  she  was,  her 
greatest  anxiety  was  as  to  his  artistic  success, 
fearing  that  his  mental  anguish  would  prevent 
his  doing  full  justice  to  his  talents.  It  is  said 
that  her  friends  informed  her  of  the  vociferous 
applause  which  greeted  his  playing,  and  a happy 
smile  brightened  her  dying  face.  She  died  Sep- 
tember 22,  1836,  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  but 
not  too  soon  to  have  attained  one  of  the  most 
dazzling  reputations  in  the  history  of  the  operatic 
stage.  M.  de  Beriot  was  almost  frantic  with  grief, 


DE  BERIOT. 


145 


for  a profound  love  had  joined  this  sympathetic 
and  well-matched  pair,  and  their  private  happiness 
had  not  been  less  than  their  public  fame.* 

The  news  of  this  calamity  to  the  world  of 
music  spread  swiftly  through  the  country,  and 
was  known  in  Paris  the  next  day,  where  M.  Mali- 
bran,  the  divorced  husband  of  the  dead  singer,  was 
then  living.  As  the  fortune  which  Mme.  de  Be- 
riot  had  made  by  her  art  was  principally  invested 
in  France,  and  there  were  certain  irregularities 
in  the  French  law  which  opened  the  way  for 
claims  of  M.  Malibran  on  her  estate,  De  Beriot 
was  obliged  to  hasten  to  Paris  before  his  wife’s 
funeral  to  take  out  letters  of  administration,  and 
thus  protect  the  future  of  the  only  child  left  by 
his  wife,  young  Charles  de  Beriot,  who  afterward 
became  a distinguished  pianist,  though  never  a 
professional  musician.  As  the  motives  of  this 
sudden  disappearance  were  not  known,  De  Beriot 
was  charged  with  the  most  callous  indifference  to 
his  wife.  But  it  is  now  well  known  that  his 
action  was  guided  by  a most  imperative  necessity, 
the  welfare  of  his  infant  son,  all  that  was  left  him 
of  the  woman  he  had  loved  so  passionately.  The 
remains  of  Mme.  de  Beriot  were  temporarily  in- 
terred in  the  Collegiate  Church  in  Manchester, 
but  they  were  shortly  afterward  removed  to 

*For  a full  sketch  of  Mme.  Malibran  de  Beriot’s  artistic  and 
personal  career,  the  reader  is  referred  to  “ Great  Singers,  Mali- 
bran to  Tietjens,”  Appletons’  “ Hand)7- Volume  Series.” 


146  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

Laeken,  near  Brussels.  Over  her  tomb  in  the 
Laeken  churchyard  the  magnificent  mausoleum 
surmounted  with  her  statue  was  erected  by  De 
Beriot.  The  celebrated  sculptor  Geefs  modeled 
it,  and  the  work  is  regarded  as  one  of  the  chefs- 
d'oeuvre  of  the  artist. 


IV. 

M.  de  Beriot  did  not  recover  from  this 
shock  for  more  than  a year,  but  remained  secluded 
at  his  country  place  near  Brussels.  It  was  not 
till  Pauline  Garcia  (subsequently  Mme.  Viardot) 
made  her  debut  in  concert  in  1837,  that  De  Be- 
riot again  appeared  in  public  before  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  audiences  which  had  ever  assem- 
bled in  Brussels.  In  honor  of  this  occasion  the 
Philharmonic  Society  of  that  city  caused  two 
medals  to  be  struck  for  M.  de  Beriot  and  Mile. 
Garcia,  the  molds  of  which  were  instantly  de- 
stroyed. The  violinist  gave  a series  of  concerts 
assisted  by  the  young  singer  in  Belgium,  Ger- 
many, and  France,  and  returned  to  Brussels 
again  on  the  anniversary  of  their  first  concert, 
where  they  appeared  in  the  Theatre  de  la  Renais- 
sance before  a most  crowded  and  enthusiastic 
audience.  Among  the  features  of  the  perform- 
ance which  called  out  the  warmest  applause  was 
Panseron’s  grand  duo  for  voice  and  violin,  “Le 
Songe  de  Tartini,”  Mile.  Garcia  both  singing  and 
playing  the  piano-forte  accompaniment  with  re- 


DE  BERIOT. 


147 


markable  skill.  Two  years  afterward  Mile.  Gar- 
cia married  M.  Viardot,  director  of  the  Italian 
Opera  at  Paris,  and  De  Beriot  espoused  Mile. 
Huber,  daughter  of  a Viennese  magistrate,  and 
ward  of  Prince  Dietrischten  Preskau,  who  had 
adopted  her  at  an  early  age. 

De  Beriot  became  identified  with  the  Royal 
Conservatory  of  Music  at  Brussels  in  the  year 
1840,  and  thenceforward  his  life  was  devoted  to 
composition  and  the  direction  of  the  violin 
school.  He  gave  much  time  and  care  to  the 
education  of  his  son  Charles,  who,  in  addition  to 
a wonderful  resemblance  to  his  mother,  appears 
to  have  inherited  much  of  the  musical  endow- 
ment of  both  parents.  Had  not  an  ample  for- 
tune rendered  professional  labor  unnecessary,  it  is 
probable  that  the  son  of  Malibran  and  De  Beriot 
would  have  attained  a musical  eminence  worthy 
of  his  lineage  ; but  he  is  even  now  celebrated  for 
his  admirable  performances  in  private,  and  his 
musical  evenings  are  said  to  be  among  the  most 
delightful  entertainments  in  Parisian  society, 
gathering  the  most  celebrated  artists  and  littera- 
teurs of  the  great  capital. 

De  Beriot  ceased  giving  public  concerts  after 
taking  charge  of  the  violin  classes  of  the  Brussels 
Conservatoire,  though  he  continued  to  charm  se- 
lect audiences  in  private  concerts.  Many  of  his 
pupils  became  distinguished  players,  among  whom 
may  be  named  Monasterio,  Standish,  Lauterbach, 


148  the  great  violinists  and  riANISTS. 

and,  chief  of  all,  Henri  Vieuxtemps,  with  whose 
precocious  talents  he  was  so  much  pleased  that  he 
gave  him  lessons  gratuitously.  During  his  life  at 
Brussels,  and  indeed  during  the  whole  of  his  ca- 
reer, De  Beriot  enjoyed  the  friendship  and  esteem 
of  many  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  the 
day,  among  his  most  intimate  friends  and  ad- 
mirers having  been  Prince  de  Chimay,  the  Kus- 
sian  Prince  Youssoupoff,  and  King  Leopold  I,  of 
Belgium.  The  latter  part  of  his  life  was  not  un- 
laborious  in  composition,  but  otherwise  of  affluent 
and  elegant  ease.  During  the  last  two  years  his 
eyesight  failed  him,  and  he  gradually  became  to- 
tally blind.  He  died,  April  13,  1870,  at  the  age 
of  sixty-eight,  while  visiting  his  friend  Prince 
Youssoupoff  at  St.  Petersburg,  of  the  brain  mal- 
ady which  had  long  been  making  fatal  inroads  on 
his  health. 

In  originality  as  a composer  for  the  violin, 
probably  no  one  can  surpass  De  Beriot  except 
Paganini,  who  exerted  a remarkable  modifying 
influence  on  him  after  he  had  formed  his  own 
first  style.  His  works  are  full  of  grace  and  poetic 
feeling,  and  worked  out  with  an  intellectual  com- 
pleteness of  form  which  gives  him  an  honorable 
distinction  even  among  those  musicians  marked 
by  affluence  of  ideas.  These  compositions  are 
likely  to  be  among  the  violin  classics,  though 
some  of  the  violinists  of  the  Spohr  school  have 
criticised  them  for  want  of  depth.  He  produced 


DE  BERIOT. 


149 


seven  concertos,  eleven  airs  varies,  several  books 
of  studies,  four  trios  for  piano,  violin,  and  ’cello, 
and,  together  with  Osborne,  Thalberg,  and  other 
pianists,  a number  of  brilliant  duos  for  piano  and 
violin.  His  book  of  instruction  for  the  violin  is 
among  the  best  ever  written,  though  somewhat 
diffuse  in  detail.  He  may  be  considered  the 
founder  of  the  Franco-Belgian  school  of  violin- 
ists, as  distinguished  from  the  classical  French 
school  founded  by  Viotti,  and  illustrated  by  Eode 
and  Baillot.  His  early  playing  was  molded  en- 
tirely in  this  style,  but  the  dazzling  example  of 
Paganini,  in  course  of  time,  had  its  effect  on  him, 
as  he  soon  adopted  the  captivating  effects  of  har- 
monics, arpeggios,  pizzicatos,  etc.,  which  the 
Genoese  had  introduced,  though  he  stopped  short 
of  sacrificing  his  breadth  and  richness  of  tone. 
He  combined  the  Paganini  school  with  that  of 
Viotti,  and  gave  status  to  a peculiar  genre  of 
players,  in  which  may  be  numbered  such  great  vir- 
tuosos as  Vieuxtemps  and  Wieniawski,  who  suc- 
cessively occupied  the  same  professional  place  for- 
merly illustrated  by  De  Beriot,  and  the  latter 
of  whom  recently  died.  De  Beriot’s  playing  was 
noted  for  accuracy  of  intonation,  remarkable  deft- 
ness and  facility  in  bowing,  grace,  elegance,  and 
piquancy,  though  he  never  succeeded  in  creating 
the  unbounded  enthusiasm  which  everywhere 
greeted  Paganini. 


OLE  BULL. 


The  Birth  and  Early  Life  of  Ole  Bull  at  Bergen,  Norway. —His 
Family  and  Connections. — Surroundings  of  his  Boyhood. — 
Early  Display  of  his  Musical  Passion. — Learns  the  Violin 
without  Aid. — Takes  Lessons  from  an  Old  Musical  Professor, 
and  soon  surpasses  his  Master. — Anecdotes  of  his  Boyhood. — 
His  Father’s  Opposition  to  Music  as  a Profession. — Competes 
for  Admittance  to  the  University  at  Christiania. — Is  consoled 
for  Failure  by  a Learned  Professor. — u Better  be  a Fiddler  than 
a Preacher.” — Becomes  Conductor  of  the  Philharmonic  Society 
at  Bergen. — His  first  Musical  Journey. — Sees  Spohr. — Fights 
a Duel. — Visit  to  Paris. — He  is  reduced  to  Great  Pecuniary 
Straits. — Strange  Adventure  with  Vidocq,  the  Great  Detective. 
— First  Appearance  in  Concert  in  Paris.  — Bomantic  Adven- 
ture leading  to  Acquaintance. — First  Appearance  in  Italy. — 
Takes  the  Place  of  De  Beriot  by  Great  Good  Luck. — Ole  Bull 
is  most  enthusiastically  received. — Extended  Concert  Tour  in 
Italy  and  France. — His  Debut  and  Success  in  England.— One 
Hundred  and  Eighty  Concerts  in  Six  Months. — Ole  Bull’s 
Gaspar  di  Salo  Violin,  and  the  Circumstances  under  which  he 
acquired  it. — His  Answer  to  the  King  of  Sweden. — First  Visit 
and  Great  Success  in  America  in  1843. — Attempt  to  establish 
a National  Theatre. — The  Norwegian  Colony  in  Pennsylvania. 
— Latter  Years  of  Ole  Bull. — His  Personal  Appearance. — Art 
Characteristics. 

I. 

The  life  of  Olaus  Bull,  or  Ole  Bull,  as  he  is 
generally  known  to  the  world,  was  not  only  of 
much  interest  in  its  relation  to  music,  but  singu- 
larly full  of  vicissitude  and  adventure.  He  was 


OLE  BULL. 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  of  ILLINOIS. 


OLE  BULL. 


151 


born  at  Bergen,  Norway,  February  5,  1810,  of 
one  of  the  leading  families  of  that  resort  of  ship- 
pers, timber-dealers,  and  fishermen.  His  father, 
John  Storm  Bull,  was  a pharmaceutist,  and  among 
his  ancestors  he  numbered  the  Norwegian  poet 
Edward  Storm,  author  of  the  “ Sinclair  Lay,”  an 
epic  on  the  fate  of  Colonel  Sinclair,  who  with  a 
thousand  Hebridean  and  Scotch  pirates  made  a 
descent  on  the  Norwegian  coast,  thus  emulating 
the  Yikingr  forefathers  of  the  Norwegians  them- 
selves. The  peasants  slew  them  to  a man  by  roll- 
ing rocks  down  on  them  from  the  fearful  pass  of 
the  Gulbrands  Dahl,  and  the  event  has  been  cele- 
brated both  by  the  poet’s  lay  and  the  painter’s 
brush.  By  the  mother’s  side  Ole  Bull  came  of 
excellent  Dutch  stock,  three  of  his  uncles  being 
captains  in  the  army  and  navy,  and  another  a 
journalist  of  repute.  A passion  for  music  was  in- 
herent in  the  family,  and  the  editor  had  occasional 
quartet  parties  at  his  house,  where  the  works  of 
Haydn,  Mozart,  and  Beethoven  were  given, 
much  to  the  delight  of  young  Ole,  who  was  often 
present  at  these  festive  occasions. 

The  romantic  and  ardent  imagination  of  the 
boy  was  fed  by  the  weird  legends  familiar  to  every 
Norwegian  nursery.  The  Scheherezade  of  this 
occasion  was  the  boy’s  own  grandmother,  who 
told  him  with  hushed  breath  the  fairy  folk-lore 
of  the  mysterious  Huldra  and  the  Fossikal,  or 
Spirit  of  the  Waterfall,  and  Ole  Bull,  with  his 
11 


152  TIIE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

passion  for  music,  was  wont  to  fancy  that  the 
music  of  the  rushing  waters  was  the  singing  of 
the  violins  played  by  fairy  artists.  From  an 
early  age  this  Greek  passion  for  personifying  all 
the  sights  and  sounds  of  nature  manifested  itself 
noticeably,  but  always  in  some  way  connected 
with  music.  He  would  fancy  even  that  he  could 
hear  the  bluebells  and  violets  singing,  and  per- 
fume and  color  translated  themselves  into  analo- 
gies of  sound.  This  poetic  imagination  grew 
with  his  years  and  widened  with  his  experience, 
becoming  the  cardinal  motive  of  Ole  Bull’s  art 
life.  For  a long  time  the  young  boy  had  longed 
for  a violin  of  his  own,  and  finally  his  uncle  who 
gave  the  musical  parties  presented  him  with  a 
violin.  Ole  worked  so  hard  in  practicing  on  his 
new  treasure  that  he  was  soon  able  to  take  part 
in  the  little  concerts. 

There  happened  to  be  at  this  time  in  Bergen  a 
professor  of  music  named  Paulsen,  who  also  played 
skillfully  on  the  violin.  Originally  from  Denmark, 
he  had  come  to  Bergen  on  business,  but,  finding 
the  brandy  so  good  and  cheap,  and  his  musical 
talent  so  much  appreciated,  he  postponed  his  de- 
parture so  long  that  he  became  a resident.  Paul- 
sen, it  was  said,  would  show  his  perseverance  in 
playing  as  long  as  there  remained  a drop  in  the 
brandy  bottle  before  him,  when  his  musical  am- 
bition came  to  a sudden  close.  When  the  old 
man,  for  he  was  more  than  sixty  when  young  Ole 


OLE  BULL. 


153 


Bull  first  knew  him,  had  worn  his  clothes  into  a 
threadbare  state,  his  friends  would  supply  him 
with  a fresh  suit,  and  at  intervals  he  gave  con- 
certs, which  every  one  thought  it  a religious  duty 
to  attend.  It  was  to  this  Dominie  Sampson  that 
Ole  Bull  was  indebted  for  his  earliest  musical 
training  ; but  it  seems  that  the  lad  made  such 
swift  progress  that  his  master  soon  had  nothing 
further  to  teach  him.  Poor  old  Paulsen  was  in 
despair,  for  in  his  bright  pupil  he  saw  a successful 
rival,  and,  fearing  that  his  occupation  was  gone, 
he  left  Bergen  for  ever. 

In  spite  of  the  boy’s  most  manifest  genius  for 
music,  his  father  was  bent  on  making  him  a cler- 
gyman, going  almost  to  the  length  of  forbidding 
him  to  practice  any  longer  on  the  dearly  loved 
fiddle,  which  had  now  become  a part  of  himself  ; 
but  Ole  persevered,  and  played  at  night  softly,  in 
constant  fear  that  the  sounds  would  be  heard. 
But  his  mother  and  grandmother  sympathized 
with  him,  and  encouraged  his  labors  of  love  in 
spite  of  the  paternal  frowns.  The  author  of  a 
recent  article  in  an  American  magazine  relates  an 
interview  with  Ole  Bull,  in  which  the  aged  artisb 
gave  some  interesting  facts  of  that  early  period  in 
his  life.  His  father’s  assistant,  who  was  musical, 
occasionally  received  musical  catalogues  from  Co- 
penhagen, and  in  one  of  these  the  boy  first  saw 
the  name  of  Paganini,  and  reference  to  his  famous 
“ Caprices.”  One  evening  his  father  brought 


154  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


home  some  Italian  musicians,  and  Ole  Bull  heard 
from  them  all  they  knew  of  the  great  player,  who 
was  then  turning  the  musical  world  topsy-turvy 
with  a fever  of  excitement.  44  I went  to  my  grand- 
mother. 4 Dear  grandmother/  I said,  4 can’t  I 
get  some  of  Paganini’s  music  ?’  4 Don’t  tell  any 

one,’  said  that  dear  old  woman,  4 hut  I will  try 
and  buy  a piece  of  his  for  you  if  you  are  a good 
child.  ’ And  she  did  try,  and  I was  wild  when  I 
got  the  Paganini  music.  How  difficult  it  was, 
but  oh,  how  beautiful  ! That  garden-house  was  my 
refuge.  Maybe — I am  not  so  sure  of  it — the  cats 
did  not  go  quite  so  wild  as  some  four  years  before. 
One  day — a memorable  one — I went  to  a quartet 
party.  The  new  leader  of  our  philharmonic  was 
there,  a very  fine  violinist,  and  he  played  for  us  a 
concerto  of  Spohr’s.  I knew  it,  and  was  delighted 
with  his  reading  of  it.  We  had  porter  to  drink 
in  another  room,  and  we  all  drank  it,  but  before 
they  had  finished  I went  back  to  the  music-room, 
and  commenced  trying  the  Spohr.  I was,  I sup- 
pose, carried  away  with  the  music,  forgot  myself, 
and  they  heard  me. 

44  4 This  is  impudence,’  said  the  leader.  4 And 
do  you  think,  boy,  that  you  can  play  it  ? ’ 4 Yes,’ 

I said,  quite  honestly.  I don’t  to  this  day  see 
wdiy  I should  have  told  a story  about  it — do  you  ? 
4 Now  you  shall  play  it,’  said  somebody.  4 Hear 
him  ! hear  him  ! ’ cried  my  uncle  and  the  rest  of 
them.  I did  try  it,  and  played  the  allegro.  All 


OLE  BULL. 


155 


of  them  applauded  save  the  leader,  who  looked 
mad. 

“ * You  think  you  can  play  anything,  then  ?’ 
asked  the  leader.  He  took  a caprice  of  Paganini’s 
from  a music  stand.  ‘ Now  you  try  this,’  he  said, 
in  a rage.  ‘ I will  try  it,’  I said.  ‘All  right ; go 
ahead.  ’ 

“ Now  it  just  happened  that  this  caprice  was 
my  favorite,  as  the  cats  well  knew.  I could  play 
it  by  memory,  and  I polished  it  off.  When  I did 
that,  they  all  shouted.  The  leader  before  had 
been  so  cross  and  savage,  I thought  he  would  just 
rave  now.  But  he  did  not  say  a word.  He  looked 
very  quiet  and  composed  like.  He  took  the  other 
musicians  aside,  and  I saw  that  he  was  talking  to 
them.  Not  long  afterward  this  violinist  left  Ber- 
gen. I never  thought  I would  see  him  again.  It 
was  in  1840,  when  I was  traveling  through  Sweden 
on  a concert  tour,  of  a snowy  day,  that  I met  a 
man  in  a sleigh.  It  was  quite  a picture  : just 
near  sunset,  and  the  northern  lights  were  shoot- 
ing in  the  sky  ; a man  wrapped  up  in  a bear-skin 
a-tracking  along  the  snow.  As  he  drew  up  abreast 
of  me  and  unmuffled  himself,  he  called  out  to  my 
driver  to  stop.  It  was  the  leader,  and  he  said  to 
me,  ‘ Well,  now  that  you  are  a celebrated  violin- 
ist, remember  that,  when  I heard  you  play  Paga- 
nini, I predicted  that  your  career  would  be  a re- 
markable one.’  ‘You  were  mistaken,’  I cried, 
jumping  up  ; ‘ I did  not  read  that  Paganini  at 


156  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

sight;  I had  played  it  before/  ‘It  makes  no 
difference  ; good-by/  and  he  urged  on  his  horse, 
and  in  a minute  the  leader  was  gone.” 

II. 

To  please  his  father,  Ole  Bull  studied  assidu- 
ously to  fit  himself  for  the  preliminary  examina- 
tion of  the  university,  but  he  found  time  also  to 
pursue  his  beloved  music.  At  the  age  of  eighteen 
he  was  entered  at  the  University  of  Christiania 
as  a candidate  for  admission,  and  went  to  that 
city  somewhat  in  advance  of  the  day  of  ordeal  to 
finish  his  studies.  He  had  hardly  entered  Chris- 
tiania before  he  was  seduced  to  play  at  a concert, 
which  beginning  gave  full  play  to  the  music-mad- 
ness beyond  all  self-restraint.  As  a result  Ole 
Bull  was  “plucked,”  and  at  first  he  did  not  dare 
write  to  his  father  of  this  downfall  of  the  hopes 
of  the  paternal  Bull. 

We  are  told  that  he  found  consolation  from 
one  of  the  very  professors  who  had  plucked  him. 
“ It’s  the  best  thing  could  have  happened  to  you,” 
said  the  latter,  by  way  of  encouragement. 

“How  so  ?”  inquired  Ole. 

“My  dear  fellow,”  was  the  reply,  “do  you 
believe  you  are  a fit  man  for  a curacy  in  Finmar- 
ken  or  a mission  among  the  Laps  ? Nature  has 
made  you  a musician  ; stick  to  your  violin,  and 
you  will  never  regret  it.” 


OLE  BULL. 


157 


“But  my  father,  think  of  his  disappointed 
hopes,”  said  Ole  Bull. 

“ Your  father  will  never  regret  it  either,”  an- 
swered the  professor. 

As  good  fortune  ordered  for  the  forlorn  youth, 
his  musical  friends  did  not  desert  him,  but  se- 
cured for  him  the  temporary  position  of  director 
of  the  Philharmonic  Society  of  Christiania,  the 
regular  incumbent  being  ill.  On  the  death  of 
the  latter  shortly  afterward,  Ole  Bull  was  ten- 
dered the  place.  As  the  new  duties  were  very 
well  paid,  and  relieved  the  youth  from  depen- 
dence on  his  father’s  purse,  further  opposition  to 
his  musical  career  was  withdrawn. 

In  the  summer  of  1829  Ole  Bull  made  a holi- 
day trip  into  Germany,  and  heard  Dr.  Spohr,  then 
director  of  the  opera  at  Oassel.  “From  this  ex- 
cursion,” said  one  of  Ole  Bull’s  friends,  “he 
returned  completely  disappointed.  He  had  fan- 
cied that  a violin-player  like  Spohr  must  be  a 
man  who,  by  his  personal  appearance,  by  the  po- 
etic character  of  his  performance,  or  by  the  flash 
of  genius,  would  enchant  and  overwhelm  his  hear- 
ers. Instead  of  this,  he  found  in  Spohr  a correct 
teacher,  exacting  from  the  young  Norwegian  the 
same  cool  precision  which  characterized  his  own 
performance,  and  quite  unable  to  appreciate  the 
wild,  strange  melodies  he  brought  from  the  land 
of  the  North.”  Spohr  was  a man  of  clock-work 
mechanism  in  all  his  methods  and  theories — young 


158  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


Ole  Bull  was  all  poetry,  romance,  and  enthusi- 
asm. 

At  Minden  our  young  violinist  met  with  an 
adventure  not  of  the  pleasantest  sort.  He  had 
joined  a party  of  students  about  to  give  a concert 
at  that  place,  and  was  persuaded  to  take  the 
place  of  the  violinist  of  the  party,  who  had  been 
rather  free  in  his  libations,  and  became  “a  victim 
of  the  rosy  god.”  Ole  Bull  was  very  warmly  ap- 
plauded at  the  concert,  and  so  much  nettled  was 
the  student  whose  failure  had  made  the  vacancy 
for  Ole  Bull’s  talent,  that  the  latter  received  a 
challenge  to  fight  a duel,  which  was  promptly  ac- 
cepted. Ole  Bull  proved  that  he  could  handle  a 
sword  as  well  as  a fiddle-bow,  for  in  a few  passes 
he  wounded  and  disabled  his  antagonist.  He 
was  advised,  however,  to  leave  that  locality  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  so  he  returned  straight  to 
Christiania,  feeling  as  if  the  very  soil  of  Europe 
repelled  him  ” (to  use  an  expression  from  one  of 
his  letters). 

Ole  Bull  remained  in  Norway  for  two  years, 
but  he  felt  that  he  must  bestir  himself,  and  go  to 
the  great  centers  of  musical  culture  if  he  would 
find  a proper  development  and  field  for  the  genius 
which  he  believed  he  possessed.  His  friends  at 
Christiania  idolized  him,  and  were  loath  to  let  him 
go,  but  nothing  could  stay  him,  so  with  pilgrim's 
staff  and  violin-case  he  started  on  his  journey. 
Scarcely  twenty-one  years  of  age,  nearly  penni- 


OLE  BULL. 


159 


less,  with  no  letters  of  introduction  to  people 
who  could  help  him,  but  with  boundless  hope  and 
resolution,  he  first  set  foot  in  Paris  in  1831. 
The  town  was  agog  over  Paganini  and  Mme. 
Malibran,  and  of  course  the  first  impulse  of  the 
young  artist  was  to  hear  these  great  people.  One 
night  he  returned  from  hearing  Malibran,  and 
went  to  bed  so  late  that  he  slept  till  nearly  noon 
the  next  day.  To  his  infinite  consternation,  he 
discovered  that  his  landlord  had  decamped  dur- 
ing the  early  morning,  taking  away  the  house- 
hold furniture  of  any  value,  and  even  abstracting 
the  modest  trunk  which  contained  Ole  Bull’s 
clothes  and  his  violin.  After  such  an  overwhelm- 
ing calamity  as  this,  the  Seine  seemed  the  only 
resource,  and  the  young  Norwegian,  it  is  said, 
had  nearly  concluded  to  find  relief  from  his  trou- 
bles in  its  turbid  and  sin-weighted  waters.  But 
it  happened  that  the  young  man  had  still  a little 
money  left,  enough  to  support  him  for  a week, 
and  he  concluded  to  delay  the  fatal  plunge  till 
the  last  sou  was  gone.  It  was  while  he  was  slowly 
enjoying  the  last  dinner  which  he  was  able  to  pay 
for,  that  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  a remark- 
able character,  to  whom  he  confided  his  misery 
and  his  determination  to  find  a tomb  in  the  Seine. 

III. 

Said  the  stranger,  after  pondering  a few 
moments  over  the  simple  but  sad  story  of  the 


160  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

young  violinist,  in  whom  he  had  taken  a sudden 
interest  : 

“Well,  I will  do  something  for  you,  if  you 
have  courage  and  five  francs.” 

“ I have  both.” 

“Then  go  to  Frascate’s  at  ten  ; pass  through 
the  first  room,  enter  the  second,  where  they  play 
‘ rouge-et-noir,’  and  when  a new  tattle  begins  put 
your  five  francs  on  rouge , and  leave  it  there.” 
This  promise  of  an  adventure  revived  Ole 
Bull’s  drooping  spirits,  and  he  was  faithful  in 
carrying  out  his  unknown  friend’s  instructions. 
At  the  precise  hour  the  tall  stalwart  figure  of  the 
young  Norwegian  bent  over  the  table  at  Fras- 
cate’s,  while  the  game  of  “rouge-et-noir”  was 
being  played.  He  threw  his  five  francs  on  red  ; 
the  card  was  drawn — red  wins,  and  the  five  francs 
were  ten.  Again  Ole  Bull  bet  his  ten  francs  on 
rouge , and  again  he  won ; and  so  he  continued, 
leaving  his  money  on  the  same  color  till  a con- 
siderable amount  of  money  lay  before  him.  By 
this  time  the  spirit  of  gaming  was  thoroughly 
aroused.  Should  he  leave  the  money  and  trust 
to  red  turning  up  again,  or  withdraw  the  pile  of 
gold  and  notes,  satisfied  with  the  kindness  of  For- 
tune, without  further  tempting  the  fickle  god- 
dess ? He  said  to  a friend  afterward,  in  relating 
his  feelings  on  this  occasion  : 

“ I was  in  a fear — I acted  as  if  possessed  by  a 
spirit  not  my  own  ; no  one  can  understand  my 


OLE  BULL. 


161 


feelings  who  lias  not  been  so  tried — left  alone  in 
the  world,  as  if  on  the  extreme  verge  of  an  abyss 
yawning  beneath,  and  at  the  same  time  feeling 
something  within  that  might  merit  a saving  hand 
at  the  last  moment/5 

Ole  Bull  stretched  forth  to  grasp  the  money, 
when  a white  hand  covered  it  before  his.  He 
seized  the  wrist  with  a fierce  grasp,  while  the 
owner  of  it  uttered  a loud  shriek,  and  loud  threats 
came  from  the  other  players,  who  took  sides  in 
the  matter,  when  a dark  figure  suddenly  appeared 
on  the  scene,  and  spoke  in  a voice  whose  tones 
carried  with  them  a magic  authority  which  stilled 
all  tumult  at  once.  “Madame,  leave  this  gold 
alone  !” — and  to  Ole  Bull : “ Sir,  take  your  mon- 
ey, if  you  please.55  The  winner  of  an  amount 
which  had  become  very  considerable  lingered  a 
few  moments  to  see  the  further  results  of  the 
play,  and,  much  to  his  disgust,  discovered  that 
he  would  have  possessed  quite  a little  fortune  had 
he  left  his  pile  undisturbed  for  one  more  turn  of 
the  cards.  He  was  consoled,  however,  on  arriv- 
ing at  his  miserable  lodgings,  for  he  could  scarcely 
believe  that  this  stroke  of  good  luck  was  true,  and 
yet  there  was  something  repulsive  in  it  to  the 
fresh,  unsophisticated  nature  of  the  man.  He 
said  in  a letter  to  one  of  his  friends,  “ What  a 
hideous  joy  I felt — what  a horrible  pleasure  it 
was  to  have  saved  one’s  own  soul  by  the  spoil  of 
others  ! 55  The  mysterious  stranger  who  had  thus 


162  tiie  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


befriended  Ole  Bull  was  the  great  detective  Vi- 
docq,  whose  adventures  and  exploits  had  given 
him  a world -wide  reputation.  Ole  Bull  never 
saw  him  again. 

In  exploring  Paris  for  the  purchase  of  a new 
violin,  he  accidentally  made  the  acquaintance  of 
an  individual  named  Labout,  who  fancied  that  he 
had  found  the  secret  of  the  old  Cremona  varnish, 
and  that,  by  using  it  on  modern-made  violins,  the 
instruments  would  acquire  all  the  tone  and  quality 
of  the  best  old  fiddles  of  the  days  of  the  Stradiuarii 
and  Amati.  The  inventor  persuaded  Ole  Bull  to 
appear  at  a private  concert  where  he  proposed  to 
test  his  invention,  and  where  the  Duke  and  Duch- 
esse  de  Montebello  were  to  be  present.  The  Nor- 
wegian’s playing  produced  a genuine  sensation, 
and  the  duke  took  the  young  artist  under  his  pat- 
ronage. The  result  was  that  Ole  Bull  was  soon 
able  to  give  a concert  on  his  own  account,  which 
brought  him  a profit  of  about  twelve  hundred 
francs,  and  made  him  talked  about  among  the 
musical  cognoscenti  of  Paris.  Of  course  every  one 
at  the  time  was  Paganini  mad,  but  Ole  Bull  secured 
more  than  a respectful  hearing,  and  opened  the 
way  toward  getting  a solid  footing  for  himself. 

Among  the  incidents  which  occurred  to  him 
in  Paris  about  this  time  was  one  which  had  a 
curiously  interesting  bearing  on  his  life.  Obliged 
to  move  from  his  lodgings  on  account  of  the  death 
of  the  landlord  and  his  wife  of  cholera,  a disease- 


OLE  BULL. 


163 


then  raging  in  Paris,  Ole  Bull  was  told  of  a no- 
ble but  impoverished  family  who  had  a room  to 
let  on  account  of  the  recent  death  of  the  only  son. 
The  Norwegian  violinist  presented  himself  at  the 
somewhat  dilapidated  mansion  of  the  Comtesse 
de  Faye,  and  was  shown  into  the  presence  of  three 
ladies  dressed  in  deepest  mourning.  The  eldest 
of  them,  on  hearing  his  errand,  haughtily  declined 
the  proposition,  when  the  more  beautiful  of  the 
two  girls  said,  “Look  at  him,  mother!55  with 
such  eagerness  as  to  startle  the  ancient  dame. 

Ole  Bull  was  surprised  at  this.  The  old  lady 
put  on  her  spectacles,  and,  as  she  riveted  her  eyes 
upon  him,  her  countenance  changed  suddenly. 
She  had  found  in  him  such  a resemblance  to  the 
son  she  had  lost  that  she  at  once  consented  to  his 
residing  in  her  house.  Some  time  afterward  Ole 
Bull  became  her  son  indeed,  having  married  the 
fascinating  girl  who  had  exclaimed,  “ Look  at  him, 
mother  ! 55 

With  the  little  money  he  had  now  earned  he 
determined  to  go  to  Italy,  provided  with  some  let- 
ters of  introduction  ; and  he  gave  his  first  Ital- 
ian concert  at  Milan  in  1834.  Applause  was  not 
wanting,  but  his  performance  was  rather  severely 
criticised  in  the  papers.  The  following  paragraph, 
reproduced  from  an  Italian  musical  periodical, 
published  shortly  after  this  concert,  probably  rep- 
resents very  truly  the  state  of  his  talent  at  that 
period  : 


164  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


“ M.  Ole  Bull  plays  the  music  of  Spohr,  May- 
seder,  Pugnani,  and  others,  without  knowing  the 
true  character  of  the  music  he  plays,  and  partly 
spoils  it  by  adding  a color  of  his  own.  It  is  mani- 
fest that  this  color  of  his  own  proceeds  from  an 
original,  poetical,  and  musical  individuality  ; but 
of  this  originality  he  is  himself  unconscious.  He 
has  not  formed  himself  ; in  fact,  he  has  no  style  ; 
he  is  an  uneducated  musician.  Whether  he  is  a 
diamond  or  not  is  uncertain  ; lut  certain  it  is 
that  the  diamond  is  not  polished” 

In  a short  time  Ole  Bull  discovered  that  it  was 
necessary  to  cultivate,  more  than  he  had  done, 
his  cantabile — this  was  his  weakest  point,  and  a 
most  important  one.  In  Italy  he  found  masters 
who  enabled  him  to  develop  this  great  quality  of 
the  violin,  and  from  that  moment  his  career  as  an 
artist  was  established.  The  next  concert  of  any 
consequence  in  which  he  played  was  at  Bologna 
under  peculiar  circumstances  ; and  his  reputation 
as  a great  violinist  appears  to  date  from  that  con- 
cert. De  Beriot  and  Malibran  were  then  idolized  at 
Bologna,  and  just  as  Ole  Bull  arrived  in  that  an- 
cient town,  De  Beriot  was  about  to  fulfill  an  engage- 
ment to  play  at  a concert  given  by  the  celebrated 
Philharmonic  Society  there.  The  engagement  had 
been  made  by  the  Marquis  di  Zampieri,  between 
whom  and  the  Belgian  artist  there  was  some  feel- 
ing of  mutual  aversion,  growing  out  of  a misun- 
derstanding and  a remark  of  the  marquis  which 


OLE  BULL. 


165 


had  wounded  the  susceptibilities  of  the  other. 
The  consequence  was  that  on  the  day  of  the  con- 
cert De  Beriot  sent  a note,  saying  that  he  had  a 
sore  finger  and  could  not  play. 

Marquis  Zampieri  was  in  a quandary,  for  the 
time  was  short.  In  his  embarrassment  he  took 
council  with  Mme.  Colbran  Rossini,  who  was  then 
at  Bologna  with  her  husband,  the  illustrious  com- 
poser. It  happened  that  Ole  Bull’s  lodging  was 
in  the  same  palazzo,  and  Mme.  Rossini  had  often 
heard  the  tones  of  the  young  artist’s  violin  in  his 
daily  practicing ; her  curiosity  had  been  greatly- 
aroused  about  this  unknown  player,  and  now  was 
the  chance  to  gratify  it.  She  told  the  noble  entre- 
preneur that  she  had  discovered  a violinist  quite 
worthy  of  taking  De  Beriot’s  place. 

“ Who  is  it  ? ” inquired  the  marquis. 

“I  don’t  know,”  answered  the  wife  of  Rossini. 

“You  are  joking,  then  ?” 

“Not  at  all,  but  I am  sure  there  is  a genius  in 
town,  and  he  lodges  close  by  here,”  pointing  to 
Ole  Bull’s  apartment.  “ Take  your  net,”  she 
added,  “ and  catch  your  bird  before  he  has  flown 
away.”  The  marquis  knocked  at  Ole  Bull’s  door, 
and  the  delighted  young  artist  soon  concluded  an 
engagement  which  insured  him  an  appearance 
under  the  best  auspices,  for  Mme.  Malibran  would 
sing  at  the  same  concert. 

In  a few  hours  Ole  Bull  was  performing  be- 
fore a distinguished  audience  in  the  concert-hall 


166  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


of  the  Philharmonic  Society.  Among  the  pieces  he 
played,  all  of  his  own  composition,  was  his  “ Quar- 
tet for  One  Violin,”  in  which  his  great  skill  in  dou- 
ble and  triple  harmonics  was  admirably  shown. 
Enthusiastic  applause  greeted  the  young  virtuoso, 
and  he  was  escorted  home  by  a torchlight  proces- 
sion of  eager  and  noisy  admirers.  This  was  Ole 
Bulks  first  really  great  success,  though  he  had 
played  in  France  and  Germany.  The  Italians, 
with  their  quick,  generous  appreciation,  and  their 
demonstrative  manner  of  showing  admiration,  had 
given  him  a reception  of  such  unreserved  appro- 
val as  warmed  his  artistic  ambition  to  the  very 
core.  Mme.  Malibran,  though  annoyed  at  the 
mischance  which  glorified  another  at  the  expense 
of  De  Beriot,  was  too  just  and  amiable  not  to  ex- 
press her  hearty  congratulations  to  the  young  ar- 
tist, and  De  Beriot  himself,  when  he  was  shortly 
afterward  introduced  to  Ole  Bull,  treated  him 
with  most  brotherly  kindness  and  cordiality. 
Prince  and  Princess  Poniatowsky  also  sent  their 
cards  to  the  now  successful  artist,  and  gave  him 
letters  of  introduction  to  distinguished  * people 
which  were  of  great  use  in  his  concert  tour.  His 
career  had  now  become  assured,  and  the  world 
received  him  with  open  arms. 

The  following  year,  1835,  contributed  a cata- 
logue of  similar  successes  in  various  cities  of  Italy 
and  France,  culminating  in  a grand  concert  at 
Paris  in  the  Opera-house,  where  the  most  distin- 


OLE  BULL. 


167 


guished  musicians  of  the  city  gave  their  warmest 
applause  in  recognition  of  the  growing  fame  and 
skill  of  Ole  Bull,  for  he  had  already  begun  to 
illustrate  a new  field  in  music  by  setting  the 
quaint  poetic  legends  and  folk-songs  of  his  na- 
tive land.  His  specialty  as  a composer  was  in  the 
domain  of  descriptive  music,  his  genius  was  for 
the  picturesque.  His  vivid  imagination,  full  of 
poetic  phantasy,  and  saturated  with  the  heroic 
traditions  and  fairy-lore  of  a race  singularly  rich 
in  this  inheritance  from  an  earlier  age,  instinc- 
tively flowered  into  art-forms  designed  to  embody 
this  legendary  wealth.  Ole  Bull’s  violin  compo- 
sitions, though  dry  and  rigorous  musicians  object 
to  them  as  lacking  in  depth  of  science,  as  shallow 
and  sensational,  are  distinctly  tone-pictures  full 
of  suggestiveness  for  the  imagination.  It  was  this 
peculiarity  which  early  began  to  impress  his  au- 
diences, and  gave  Ole  Bull  a separate  place  by 
himself  in  an  age  of  eminent  players. 

IV. 

In  1836  and  1837  Ole  Bull  gave  one  hundred 
and  eighty  concerts  in  England  during  the  space 
of  sixteen  months.  By  this  time  he  had  become 
famous,  and  a mere  announcement  sufficed  to  at- 
tract large  audiences.  Subsequently  he  visited 
successively  every  town  of  importance  in  Europe, 
earning  large  amounts  of  money  and  golden  opin- 
ions everywhere.  For  a long  time  our  artist  used 
12 


168  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

a tine  Guarnerius  violin  and  afterward  a Nicholas 
Amati,  which  was  said  to  the  finest  instrument 
of  this  make  in  the  world.  But  the  violin  which 
Ole  Bull  prized  in  latter  years  above  all  others 
was  the  famous  Gaspar  di  Salo  with  the  scroll 
carved  by  Benvenuto  Cellini.  Mr.  Barnett  Phil- 
lips, an  American  litterateur , tells  the  story  of  this 
noble  old  instrument,  as  related  in  Ole  Bull’s 
words  : 

“Well,  in  1839  I gave  sixteen  concerts  at  Vi- 
enna, and  then  Bhehazek  was  the  great  violin  col- 
lector. I saw  at  his  house  this  violin  for  the  first 
time.  I just  went  wild  over  it.  ‘Will  you  sell 
it?’  1 asked.  ‘Yes,’  was  the  reply — ‘for  one 
quarter  of  all  Vienna.’  Now  Bhehazek  was  really 
as  poor  as  a church  mouse.  Though  he  had  no 
end  of  money  put  out  in  the  most  valuable  instru- 
ments, he  never  sold  any  of  them  unless  when 
forced  by  hunger.  I invited  Bhehazek  to  my 
concerts.  I wanted  to  buy  the  violin  so  much 
that  I made  him  some  tempting  offers.  One  day 
he  said  to  me,  ‘See  here,  Ole  Bull,  if  I do  sell  the 
violin,  you  shall  have  the  preference  at  four 
thousand  ducats.’  ‘Agreed,’  I cried,  though  I 
knew  it  was  a big  sum. 

“That  violin  came  strolling,  or  playing  rath- 
er, through  my  brain  for  some  years.  It  was  in 
1841.  I was  in  Leipsic  giving  concerts.  Liszt 
was  there,  and  so  also  was  Mendelssohn.  One 
day  we  were  all  dining  together.  We  were  hav- 


OLE  BULL. 


169 


nig  a splendid  time.  During  the  dinner  came  an 
immense  letter  with  a seal — an  official  document. 
Said  Mendelssohn,  ‘ Use  no  ceremony  ; open  your 
letter.’  ‘What  an  awful  seal!’  cried  Liszt. 

‘ With  your  permission,’  said  I,  and  I opened  the 
letter.  It  was  from  Rheliazek’s  son,  for  the  col- 
lector was  dead.  His  father  had  said  that  the 
yiolin  should  be  offered  to  me  at  the  price  he  had 
mentioned.  I told  Liszt  and  Mendelssohn  about 
the  price.  ‘You  man  from  Norway,  you  are 
crazy,’  said  Liszt.  ‘Unheard  of  extravagance, 
which  only  a fiddler  is  capable  of,’  exclaimed 
Mendelssohn.  ‘ Have  you  ever  played  on  it  ? 
Have  you  ever  tried  it  ? ’ they  both  inquired. 
‘Never,’  I answered,  ‘for  it  can  not  be  played  on 
at  all  just  now.’ 

“I  never  was  happier  than  when  I felt  sure 
that  the  prize  was  mine.  Originally  the  bridge 
was  of  boxwood,  with  two  fishes  carved  on  it — 
that  was  the  zodiacal  sign  of  my  birthday,  Febru- 
ary— which  was  a good  sign.  Oh,  the  good  times 
that  violin  and  I have  had  ! As  to  its  history, 
Rhehazek  told  me  that  in  1809,  when  Innspruck 
was  taken  by  the  French,  the  soldiers  sacked  the 
town.  This  violin  had  been  placed  in  the  Inn- 
spruck Museum  by  Cardinal  Aldobrandi  at  the 
close  of  the  sixteenth  century.  A French  soldier 
looted  it,  and  sold  it  to  Rhehazek  for  a trifle. 
This  is  the  same  violin  that  I played  on,  when  I 
first  came  to  the  United  States,  in  the  Park 


170  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

Theatre.  That  was  on  Evacuation  day,  1843.  1 

went  to  the  Astor  House,  and  made  a joke — I am 
quite  capable  of  doing  such  things.  It  was  the 
day  when  John  Bull  went  out  and  Ole  Bull  came 
in.  I remember  that  at  the  very  first  concert  one 
of  my  strings  broke,  and  I had  to  work  out  my 
piece  on  the  three  strings,  and  it  was  supposed  I 
did  it  on  purpose.”  Ole  Bull  valued  this  instru- 
ment as  beyond  all  price,  and  justly,  for  there 
have  been  few  more  famous  violins  than  the 
Treasury  violin  of  Innspruck,  under  which  name 
it  was  known  to  all  the  amateurs  and  collectors  of 
the  world. 

During  his  various  art  wanderings  through 
Europe,  Ole  Bull  made  many  friends  among  the 
distinguished  men  of  the  world.  A dominant 
pride  of  person  and  race,  however,  always  pre- 
served him  from  the  slightest  approach  to  servili- 
ty. In  1838  he  was  presented  to  Carl  Johann, 
king  of  Sweden,  at  Stockholm.  The  king  had  at 
that  time  a great  feeling  of  bitterness  against 
Norway,  on  account  of  the  obstinate  refusal  of  the 
people  of  that  country  to  be  united  with  Sweden 
under  his  rule.  At  the  interview  with  Ole  Bull 
the  irate  king  let  fall  some  sharp  expressions  rela- 
tive to  his  chagrin  in  the  matter. 

“Sire,”  said  the  artist,  drawing  himself  up  to 
the  fullness  of  his  magnificent  height,  and  looking 
sternly  at  the  monarch,  “you  forget  that  I have 
the  honor  to  be  a Norwegian.” 


OLE  BULL. 


171 


The  king  was  startled  by  this  curt  rebuke,  and 
was  about  to  make  an  angry  reply,  but  smoothed 
his  face  and  answered,  with  a laugh  : 

“ Well  ! well ! I know  you  d — d sturdy  fel- 
lows.” Carl  Johann  afterward  bestowed  on  Ole 
Bull  the  order  of  Gustavus  Yasa. 

V. 

Ole  Bull’s  first  visit  to  America  was  in  1843, 
and  the  impression  produced  by  his  playing  was, 
for  manifest  causes,  even  greater  than  that  created 
in  Europe.  He  was  the  first  really  great  violinist 
who  had  ever  come  to  this  country  for  concert 
purposes,  and  there  was  none  other  to  measure 
him  by.  There  were  no  great  traditions  of  players 
who  had  preceded  him ; there  were  no  rivals  like 
Spohr,  Paganini,  and  De  Beriot  to  provoke  com- 
parisons. In  later  years  artists  discovered  that 
this  country  was  a veritable  El  Dorado,  and  re- 
garded an  American  tour  as  indispensable  to  the 
fulfillment  of  a well-rounded  career.  But,  when 
Ole  Bull  began  to  play  in  America,  his  perfor- 
mances were  revelations,  to  the  masses  of  those 
that  heard  him,  of  the  possibilities  of  the  violin. 
The  greatest  enthusiasm  was  manifested  every- 
where, and,  during  the  three  years  of  this  early 
visit,  he  gave  repeated  performances  in  every  city 
of  any  note  in  America.  The  writer  of  this  little 
work  met  Ole  Bull  a few  years  ago  in  Chicago, 
and  heard  the  artist  laughingly  say  that,  when  he 


172  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

first  entered  what  was  destined  to  be  such  a great 
city,  it  was  little  more  than  a vast  mudhole,  a 
good-sized  village  scattered  over  a wide  space  of 
ground,  and  with  no  building  of  pretension  ex- 
cept Fort  Dearborn,  a stockade  fortification. 

Our  artist  returned  to  Europe  in  1846,  and 
for  five  years  led  a wandering  life  of  concert- 
giving in  England,  France,  Holland,  Germany, 
Italy,  and  Spain,  adding  to  his  laurels  by  the 
recognition  everywhere  conceded  of  the  increased 
soundness  and  musicianly  excellence  of  his  play- 
ing. It  was  indeed  at  this  period  that  Ole  Bull 
attained  his  best  as  a virtuoso.  He  had  been 
previously  seduced  by  the  example  of  Paganini, 
and  in  the  attempt  to  master  the  more  strange 
and  remote  difficulties  of  the  instrument  had 
often  laid  himself  open  to  serious  criticism.  But 
Ole  Bull  gradually  formed  a style  of  his  own 
which  was  the  outcome  of  his  passion  for  descrip- 
tive and  poetic  playing,  and  the  correlative  of  the 
mode  of  composition  which  he  adopted.  In  still 
later  years  Ole  Bull  seems  to  have  returned  again 
to  what  might  be  termed  claptrap  and  trickery  in 
his  art,  and  to  have  desired  rather  to  excite  won- 
der and  curiosity  than  to  charm  the  sensibilities 
or  to  satisfy  the  requirements  of  sound  musical 
taste. 

In  1851  Ole  Bull  returned  home  with  the 
patriotic  purpose  of  establishing  a strictly  national 
theatre.  This  had  been  for  a long  time  one  of 


OLE  BTJLL. 


173 


the  many  dreams  which  his  active  imagination 
had  conjured  up  as  a part  of  his  mission.  He 
was  one  of  the  earliest  of  that  school  of  reformers, 
of  whom  we  have  heard  so  much  of  late  years, 
that  urge  the  readoption  of  the  old  Norse  lan- 
guage— or,  what  is  nearest  to  it  now,  the  Icelandic 
— as  the  vehicle  of  art  and  literature.  In  the  at- 
tempt to  dethrone  Dansk  from  its  preeminence 
as  the  language  of  the  drama,  Ole  Bull  signally 
failed,  and  his  Norwegian  theatre,  established  at 
Bergen,  proved  only  an  insatiable  tax  on  money- 
resources  earned  in  other  directions. 

The  year  succeeding  this,  Ole  Bull  again  vis- 
ited the  United  States,  and  spent  five  years  here. 
The  return  to  America  did  not  altogether  con- 
template the  pursuit  of  music,  for  there  had 
been  for  a good  while  boiling  in  his  brain,  among 
other  schemes,  the  project  of  a great  Scandinavian 
colony,  to  be  established  in  Pennsylvania  under 
his  auspices.  He  purchased  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand  acres  of  land  on  the  Sus- 
quehanna, and  hundreds  of  sturdy  Norwegians! 
flocked  over  to  the  land  of  milk  and  honey  thus 
auspiciously  opened  to  them.  Timber  was  felled, 
ground  cleared,  churches,  cottages,  school-houses 
built,  and  everything  was  progressing  desirably, 
when  the  ambitious  colonizer  discovered  that 
the  parties  who  sold  him  the  land  were  swin- 
dlers without  any  rightful  claim  to  it.  With 
the  unbusiness-like  carelessness  of  the  man  of 


174  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

genius,  our  artist  had  not  investigated  the  claims 
of  others  on  the  property,  and  he  thus  became 
involved  in  a most  perplexing  and  expensive 
suit  at  law.  He  attempted  to  punish  the  ras- 
cals who  so  nearly  ruined  him,  but  they  were 
shielded  behind  the  quips  and  quirks  of  the  law, 
and  got  away  scot  free.  Ole  Bulks  previously 
ample  means  were  so  heavily  drained  by  this 
misfortune  that  he  was  compelled  to  take  up 
his  violin  again  and  resume  concert-giving,  for 
he  had  incurred  heavy  pecuniary  obligations  that 
must  be  met.  Driven  by  the  most  feverish  anx- 
iety, he  passed  from  town  to  town,  playing  almost 
every  night,  till  he  was  stricken  down  by  yellow 
fever  in  New  Orleans.  His  powerful  frame  and 
sound  constitution,  fortified  by  the  abstemious 
habits  which  had  marked  his  whole  life  of  queer 
vicissitudes,  carried  him  through  this  danger 
safely,  and  he  finally  succeeded  in  honorably  ful- 
filling the  responsibility  which  he  had  assumed 
toward  his  countrymen. 

For  many  recent  years  Ole  Bull,  when  not 
engaged  in  concert-giving  in  Europe  or  America, 
has  resided  at  a charming  country  estate  on  one 
of  the  little  islands  off  the  coast  of  Norway.  His 
numerous  farewell  concert  tours  are  very  well 
known  to  the  public,  and  would  have  won  him 
ridicule,  had  not  the  genial  presence  and  brilliant 
talents  of  the  Norwegian  artist  been  always  good 
for  a renewed  and  no  less  cordial  welcome.  He 


OLE  BULL 


175 


frequently  referred  to  the  United  States  in  latter 
years  as  the  beloved  land  of  his  adoption.  One 
striking  proof  of  his  preference  was,  at  all  events, 
displayed  in  his  marriage  to  an  American  lady. 
Miss  Thorpe,  of  Wisconsin,  in  1870.  One  son 
was  the  fruit  of  this  second  marriage,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Ole  Bull  divided  their  time  between 
Norway  and  the  United  States. 

The  magnificent  presence  of  Ole  Bull,  as  if  of 
some  grand  old  viking  stepped  out  of  his  armor 
and  dressed  in  modern  garb,  made  a most  pictu- 
resque personality.  Those  who  have  seen  him 
can  never  forget  him.  The  great  stature,  the 
massive,  stalwart  form,  as  upright  as  a pine,  the 
white  floating  locks  framing  the  ruddy  face,  full 
of  strength  and  genial  humor,  lit  up  by  keen  blue 
eyes — all  these  things  made  Ole  Bull  the  most 
striking  man  in  personnel  among  all  the  artists 
who  have  been  familiar  to  our  public. 

While  Ole  Bull  will  not  be  known  in  the  his- 
tory of  art  as  a great  scientific  musician,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  his  place  as  a brilliant  and 
gifted  solo  player  will  stand  among  the  very  fore- 
most. As  a composer  he  will  probably  be  for- 
gotten, for  his  compositions,  which  made  up  the 
most  of  his  concert  programmes,  were  so  radically 
interwoven  with  his  executive  art  as  a virtuoso 
that  the  two  can  not  be  dissevered.  No  one,  un- 
less he  should  be  inspired  by  the  same  feelings 
which  animated  the  breast  of  Ole  Bull,  could 


176  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

ever  evolve  from  his  musical  tone-pictures  of 
Scandinavian  myth  and  folk-lore  the  weird  fasci- 
nation which  his  bow  struck  from  the  strings. 
Ole  Bull,  like  Paganini,  laid  no  claim  to  great- 
ness in  interpreting  the  violin  classics.  His  pe- 
culiar title  to  fame  is  that  of  being,  aside  from  bril- 
liancy as  a violin  virtuoso,  the  musical  exponent 
of  his  people  and  their  traditions.  He  died  at 
Bergen,  Norway,  on  August  18,  1880,  in  the 
seventy-first  year  of  his  age,  and  his  funeral 
services  made  one  of  the  most  august  and  im- 
posing ceremonials  held  for  many  a long  year  in 
Norway. 


JOACHIM. 


The  Most  Serious  and  Sincere  of  Artists. — The  Hater  of  Musical 
Claptrap. — Famous  while  vet  a Boy. — Life  in  Berlin. — His 
Annual  Visits  to  London. — Essential  Qualities  and  Ideals  as  a 
Violinist. — Joachim’s  Compositions. 

1$  a generation  which  has  listened  to  such 
violin-players  as  Sivori,  Wieniawski,  Wilhelmj, 
Remenyi,  Sauret,  Sainton,  Sarasate,  and  others 
scarcely  less  in  the  mouths  of  men,  it  seems  al- 
most invidious  to  select  any  one  artist  as  outrank- 
ing the  rest  in  the  dignity  of  art.  Yet  we  fancy 
that  if  the  question  could  have  been  put  to  all 
these  masters  assembled  in  convention,  “ Who 
among  you  best  stands  for  what  is  finest  in  mu- 
sical skill  and  endowment,  for  sincerity  in  his 
work,  for  an  austere  ideal  to  which  he  has  set  the 
whole  pace  of  his  life  ? ” the  reply  would  have  been 
an  acclamation,  “Joseph  Joachim!”  Joachim 
has  never  been  in  America.  He  has  sought  less 
than  others  the  rewards  which  come  from  peripa- 
tetic art,  and,  like  Rubinstein,  shrinks  from  the 
title  of  virtuoso,  however  nobly  it  belongs  to  him. 
Music  has  been  to  him  a temple  to  be  entered  with 
a sense  of  consecration,  not  a market-place  where 
traders  struggle  for  gain,  nor  a race-course  where 
the  vanity  of  fame  glitters  at  the  winning-post. 


178  THE  great  violinists  and  TIANISTS. 


The  story  of  his  public  career  can  be  packed  al- 
most in  a nut-shell. 

Joachim  was  born  of  Jewish  parents  at  Kitsee, 
near  Pressburg,  Austria,  June  28,  1831,  and,  after 
preliminary  instruction  at  Pesth,  became  a pupil 
of  Baehm  at  Vienna.  At  the  age  of  twelve  he 
began  to  study  under  the  great  player  and  teacher, 
Ferdinand  David,  at  Leipsic,  and  was  powerfully 
molded  by  Mendelssohn’s  influence  in  his  ideals 
of  art.  It  was  during  his  first  year  at  Leipsic  that 
Moschelles  heard  him  play,  and  put  on  record  his 
impressions  of  an  exquisite  boy  artist.  He  re- 
mained in  the  Conservatoire  for  four  years,  and 
then  shared  with  David  the  leadership  of  the 
Gewandhaus  Orchestra.  After  successful  tours  in 
Germany  and  England,  he  accepted  in  1850  the 
leadership  of  the  Grand  Duke’s  orchestra  at  Wei- 
mar; but  as  Liszt,  with  his  passion  for  the  new 
Wagner  cult,  to  which  Joachim  was  antipathetic, 
was  the  all-powerful  influence  at  the  German 
Athens,  our  young  violinist  did  not  find  his  en- 
gagement agreeable.  After  two  years  he  accepted 
a proffer  from  the  King  of  Hanover  as  solo-per- 
former and  director  of  concerts,  and  in  this  posi- 
tion he  continued  till  1866,  during  which  period 
he  married  the  eminent  contralto  singer,  Amalia 
Weiss.  Two  years  more  of  concert- touring,  and 
then  Joachim  was  installed  at  the  head  of  the  new 
department  of  Musical  Execution  in  the  Royal 
Academy  of  Art  in  Berlin.  In  1882  he  became  the 


JOACHIM. 


179 


chief  director  of  the  institution.  For  many  years 
Joachim  has  spent  two  or  three  months  of  each 
year  in  London,  where,  in  association  with  the 
great  ’cellist  Piatti,  and  other  instrumentalists  no 
less  eminent,  he  has  given  the  finest  interpretation 
of  chamber  music  in  the  world  at  the  Monday 
Popular  Concerts  of  the  Messrs.  Chappell,  and  at 
the  Crystal  Palace. 

Such  is  the  outline  of  a simple  life  devoid  of 
incident.  No  romance  attaches  to  it  as  in  the  case 
of  Paganini,  De  Beriot,  or  Liszt.  Eccentricity  of 
adventure  and  storm  of  passion  have  not  ruffled  a 
serene  and  persistent  devotion  to  his  art.  No  racy 
scandal  has  startled  the  public  attention.  He  is 
known  as  the  consummate  artist  pure  and  simple, 
who  illustrates  the  sanity  of  genius  as  brilliantly 
as  others  have  been  object-lessons  of  its  extrava- 
gance. 

As  player  Joachim  is  not  famous  for  that  be- 
witching trickery  to  which  the  violin  lends  itself 
with  as  much  grace  as  it  does  to  the  nobler  exer- 
cise of  its  magic,  that  legerdemain  of  bow  and 
string,  which  so  many. fine  players  have  been  willing 
to  trust  for  much  of  their  public  repute.  That  he 
rules  every  resource  of  his  instrument  goes  without 
saying.  But  this  skill  has  been  devoted  to  the  inter- 
pretation only  of  the  noblest  music — such  works 
as  the  great  concertos  of  Beethoven,  Bach,  Spohr, 
Mendelssohn,  Brahms,  Viotti,  and  his  own  superb 
Hungarian  concerto.  These  works  and  the  whole 


180  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

range  of  chamber  music  have  set  apparently  nar- 
row bounds  to  his  repertory,  though  by  his  own 
deliberate  choice.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  these 
classical  masterpieces  tax  the  highest  genius  and 
skill  in  the  executant,  and  that  Joachim  is  par 
excellence  their  leading  exponent  to  determine  at 
once  his  place  in  art.  As  a composer  he  is  a fol- 
lower of  the  school  of  Schumann,  and  has  pro- 
duced several  important  works  for  the  orchestra, 
many  for  the  violin,  and  much  delightful  chamber 
music. 


MUZIO  CLEMENT!. 


The  Genealogy  of  the  Piano-forte. — The  Harpsichord  its  Imme- 
diate Predecessor. — Supposed  Invention  of  the  Piano-forte. — 
Silbermann  the  First  Maker.  — Anecdote  of  Frederick  the 
Great. — The  Piano-forte  only  slowly  makes  its  Way  as  against, 
the  Clavichord  and  Harpsichord. — Emanuel  Bach,  the  First 
Composer  of  Sonatas  for  the  Piano-forte. — His  Views  of  play- 
ing on  the  New  Instrument. — Haydn  and  Mozart  as  Players. — 
Muzio  Clementi,  the  Earliest  Virtuoso,  strictly  speaking,  as  a 
Pianist. — Born  in  Kome  in  1752. — Scion  of  an  Artistic  Family. 
— First  Musical  Training. — Rapid  Development  of  his  Talents. 
— Composes  Contrapuntal  Works  at  the  Age  of  Fourteen. — 
Early  Studies  of  the  Organ  and  Harpsichord. — Goes  to  Eng- 
land to  complete  his  Studies. — Creates  an  Unequaled  Furore 
in  London. — John  Christian  Bach’s  Opinion  of  Clementi. — 
dementi’s  Musical  Tour. — His  Duel  with  Mozart  before  the 
Emperor. — Tenor  of  dementi’s  Life  in  England. — dementi’s 
Pupils. — Trip  to  St.  Petersburg. — Sphor’s  Anecdote  of  Him. — 
Mercantile  and  Manufacturing  Interest  in  the  Piano  as  Part- 
ner of  Collard. — The  Players  and  Composers  trained  under 
Clementi. — His  Composition. — Status  as  a Player. — Character 
and  Influence  as  an  Artist.— Development  of  the  Technique  of 
the  Piano,  culminating  in  Clementi. 

I. 

Before  touching  the  life  of  Clementi,  the  first 
of  the  great  virtuosos  who  may  he  considered  dis- 
tinctively composers  for  and  players  on  the  piano- 
forte, it  is  indispensable  to  a clear  understanding 
of  the  theme  involved  that  the  reader  should 


182  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


turn  back  for  a brief  glance  at  the  history  of 
the  piano  and  piano-playing  prior  to  his  time. 
Before  the  piano-forte  came  the  harpsichord, 
prior  to  the  latter  the  spinet,  then  the  virginal, 
the  clavichord,  and  monochord  ; before  these,  the 
clavicytherium.  Before  these  instruments,  which 
bring  us  down  to  modern  civilized  times,  and 
constitute  the  genealogy  of  the  piano-forte,  we 
have  the  dulcimer  and  psaltery,  and  all  the  Egyp- 
tian, Grecian,  and  Roman  harps  and  lyres  which 
were  struck  with  a quill  or  plectrum/  No  product 
of  human  ingenuity  has  been  the  outcome  of  a 
steady  and  systematic  growth  from  age  to  age 
by  more  demonstrable  stages  than  this  most  re- 
markable of  musical  instruments.  As  it  is  not 
the  intention  to  offer  an  essay  on  the  piano,  but 
only  to  make  clearer  the  conditions  under  which  a 
great  school  of  players  began  to  appear,  the  an- 
tiquities of  the  topic  are  not  necessary  to  be 
touched. 

The  modern  piano-forte  had  as  its  immediate 
predecessor  the  harpsichord,  the  instrument  on 
which  the  heroines  of  the  novels  of  Fielding, 
Smollett,  Richardson,  and  their  contemporaries 
were  wont  to  discourse  sweet  music,  and  for 
which  Haydn  and  Mozart  composed  come  de- 
lightful minor  works.  In  the  harpsichord  the 
strings  were  set  in  vibration  by  points  of  quill  or 
hard  leather.  One  of  these  instruments  looked  like 
a piano,  only  it  was  provided  with  two  keyboards, 


MUZIO  CLEMENTI. 


183 


one  above  the  other,  related  to  each  other  as  the 
swell  and  main  keyboards  of  an  organ.  At 
last  it  occurred  to  lovers  of  music  that  all  re- 
finement of  musical  expression  depended  on  touch, 
and  that  whereas  a string  could  be  plucked  or 
pulled  by  machinery  in  but  one  way,  it  could 
be  hit  in  a hundred  ways.  It  was  then  that  the 
notion  of  striking  the  strings  with  a hammer 
found  practical  use,  and  by  the  addition  of  this 
element  the  piano-forte  emerged  into  existence. 
The  idea  appears  to  have  occurred  to  three  men 
early  in  the  eighteenth  century,  almost  simultane- 
ously— Cristofori,  an  Italian,  Marius,  a French- 
man, and  Schroter,  a German.  For  years  at- 
tempts to  carry  out  the  new  mechanism  were 
so  clumsy  that  good  harpsichords  on  the  wrong 
principle  were  preferred  to  poor  piano-fortes  on 
the  right  principle.  But  the  keynote  of  prog- 
ress had  been  struck,  and  the  day  of  the  quill 
and  leather  jack  was  swiftly  drawing  to  a close. 
A small  hammer  was  made  to  strike  the  string, 
producing  a marvelously  clear,  precise,  delicate 
tone,  and  the  “ scratch  ” with  a sound  at  the  end 
of  it  was  about  to  be  consigned  to  oblivion  for 
ever  and  a day. 

Gottfried  Silbermann,  an  ingenious  musical  in- 
strument maker,  of  Freyburg,  Saxony,  was  the 
first  to  give  the  new  principle  adequate  expression, 
about  the  year  1740,  and  his  pianos  excited  a great 
deal  of  curiosity  among  musicians  and  scientific 

lo 


184  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


men.  He  followed  the  mechanism  of  Cristofori, 
the  Italian,  rather  than  of  his  own  countrymen. 
Schroter  and  his  instruments  appear  to  have' been 
ingenious,  though  Sebastian  Bach,  who  loved  his 
“ well-tempered  clavichord  ” (the  most  powerful 
instrument  of  the  harpsichord  class)  too  well  to 
be  seduced  from  his  allegiance,  pronounced  them 
too  feeble  in  tone,  a criticism  which  he  retracted 
in  after  years.  Silbermann  experimented  and  la- 
bored with  incessant  energy  for  many  years,  and 
he  had  the  satisfaction  before  dying  of  seeing  the 
piano  firmly  established  in  the  affection  and  ad- 
miration of  the  musical  world.  One  of  the  most 
authentic  of  musical  anecdotes  is  that  of  the  visit 
of  John  Sebastian  Bach  and  his  son  to  Frederick 
the  Great,  at  Potsdam,  in  1747.  The  Prussian 
king  was  an  enthusiast  in  music,  and  himself  an 
excellent  performer  on  the  flute,  of  which,  as  well 
as  of  other  instruments,  he  had  a large  collection. 
He  had  for  a long  time  been  anxious  for  a visit 
from  Bach,  but  that  great  man  was  too  much 
enamored  of  his  own  quiet  musical  solitude  to 
run  hither  and  thither  at  the  beck  of  kings.  At 
last,  after  much  solicitation,  he  consented,  and 
arrived  at  Potsdam  late  in  the  evening,  all  dusty 
and  travel-stained.  The  king  was  just  taking  up 
his  flute  to  play  a concerto,  when  a lackey  informed 
him  of  the  coming  of  Bach.  Frederick  was  more 
agitated  than  he  ever  had  been  in  the  tumult  of 
battle.  Crying  aloud,  “Gentlemen,  old  Bach  is 


MUZIO  CLEMENT!. 


185 


here  ! ” he  rushed  out  to  meet  the  king  in  a loftier 
domain  than  his  own,  and  ushered  him  into  the 
lordly  company  of  powdered  wigs  and  doublets,  of 
fair  dames  shining  with  jewels,  satins,  and  vel- 
vets, of  courtiers  glittering  in  all  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow.  “Old  Bach”  presented  a shabby  fig- 
ure amid  all  this  splendor,  but  the  king  cared 
nothing  for  that.  He  was  most  anxious  to  hear 
the  grand  old  musician  play  on  the  new  Silber- 
mann  piano,  which  was  the  latest  hobby  of  the 
Prussian  monarch. 

It  is  not  a matter  of  wonder  that  the  lovers  of 
the  harpsichord  and  clavichord  did  not  take  kind- 
ly to  the  piano-forte  at  first.  The  keys  needed  a 
greater  delicacy  of  treatment,  and  the  very  fact 
that  the  instrument  required  a new  style  of  play- 
ing was  of  course  sufficient  to  relegate  the  piano  to 
another  generation.  The  art  of  playing  had  at 
the  time  of  the  invention  of  the  piano  attained  a 
high  degree  of  efficiency.  Such  musicians  as  Do- 
menico Scarlatti  in  Italy  and  John  Sebastian 
Bach  in  Germany  had  developed  a wonderful 
degree  of  skill  in  treating  the  clavecin , or  spinet, 
and  the  clavichord,  and,  if  we  may  trust  the  old 
accounts,  they  called  out  ecstasies  of  admiration 
similar  to  those  which  the  great  modern  players 
have  excited.  With  the  piano-forte,  however,  an 
entirely  new  style  of  expression  came  into  exist- 
ence. The  power  to  play  soft  or  loud  at  will  de- 
veloped the  individual  or  personal  feeling  of  the 


186  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


player,  and  new  effects  were  speedily  invented 
and  put  in  practice.  The  art  of  playing  ceased  to 
be  considered  from  the  merely  objective  point  of 
view,  for  the  richer  resources  of  the  piano  sug- 
gested the  indulgence  of  individuality  of  expres- 
sion. It  was  left  to  Emanuel  Bach  to  make  the 
first  step  toward  the  proper  treatment  of  the 
piano,  and  to  adapt  a style  of  composition  ex- 
pressly to  its  requirements,  though  even  he  con- 
tinued to  prefer  the  clavichord.  The  rigorous, 
polyphonic  style  of  his  illustrious  father  was 
succeeded  by  the  lyrical  and  singing  element, 
which,  if  fantastic  and  daring,  had  a sweet, 
bright  charm  very  fascinating.  He  writes  in 
one  of  his  treatises  : “ Methinks  music  ought  ap- 
peal directly  to  the  heart,  and  in  this  no  per- 
former on  the  piano-forte  will  succeed  by  merely 
thumping  and  drumming,  or  by  continual  ar- 
peggio playing.  During  the  last  few  years  my 
chief  endeavor  has  been  to  play  the  piano-forte,  in 
spite  of  its  deficiency  in  sustaining  the  sound,  so 
much  as  possible,  in  a singing  manner,  and  to  com- 
pose for  it  accordingly.  This  is  by  no  means  an 
easy  task,  if  we  desire  not  to  leave  the  ear  empty 
or  to  disturb  the  noble  simplicity  of  the  cantabile 
by  too  much  noise.” 

Haydn  and  Mozart,  who  composed  somewhat 
for  the  harpsichord  (for  until  the  closing  years  of 
the  eighteenth  century  this  instrument  had  not 
entirely  yielded  to  the  growing  popularity  of  the 


MUZIO  CLEMENTI. 


187 


piano-forte),  distinguished  themselves  still  more  by 
their  treatment  of  the  latter  instrument.  They 
closely  followed  the  maxims  of  Emanuel  Bach. 
They  aimed  to  please  the  public  by  sweet  melody 
and  agreeable  harmony,  by  spontaneous  elegance 
and  cheerfulness,  by  suave  and  smooth  simplicity. 
Their  practice  in  writing  for  the  orchestra  and 
for  voices  modified  their  piano-forte  style  both  as 
composers  and  players,  but  they  never  sacrificed 
that  intelligible  and  simple  charm  which  appeals 
to  the  universal  heart  to  the  taste  for  grand,  com- 
plex, and  eccentric  effects,  which  has  so  domi- 
nated the  efforts  of  their  successors.  Mozart’s 
most  distinguished  contemporaries  bear  witness  to 
his  excellence  as  a player,  and  his  great  command 
over  the  piano-forte,  and  his  own  remarks  on  piano- 
playing are  full  of  point  and  suggestion.  He  as- 
serts “that  the  performer  should  possess  a quiet 
and  steady  hand,  with  its  natural  lightness, 
smoothness,  and  gliding  rapidity  so  well  developed 
that  the  passages  should  flow  like  oil.  . . . All 
notes,  graces,  accents,  etc.,  should  be  brought  out 
with  fitting  taste  and  expression.  ...  In  pas- 
sages [technical  figures] , some  notes  may  be  left 
to  their  fate  without  notice,  but  is  that  right  ? 
Three  things  are  necessary  to  a good  performer  ”■  ; 
and  he  pointed  significantly  to  his  head,  his 
heart,  and  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  as  symbolical  of 
understanding,  sympathy,  and  technical  skill. 

But  it  was  fated  that  Clementi  should  be  the 


188  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


Columbus  in  the  domain  of  piano-forte  playing 
and  composition.  He  was  the  father  of  the  school 
of  modern  piano  technique,  and  by  far  surpassed 
all  his  contemporaries  in  the  boldness,  vigor,  bril- 
liancy, and  variety  of  his  execution,  and  he  is  en- 
titled to  be  called  first  (in  respect  of  date)  of  the 
great  piano-forte  virtuosos.  Clementi  wrote  solely 
for  this  instrument  (for  his  few  orchestral  works 
are  now  dead).  The  piano,  as  his  sole  medium  of 
expression,  became  a vehicle  of  great  eloquence 
and  power,  and  his  sonatas,  as  pure  types  of 
piano-forte  compositions,  are  unsurpassed,  even  in 
this  age  of  exuberant  musical  fertility. 

II. 

Muzio  Clementi  was  born  at  Rome  in  the 
year  1752,  and  was  the  son  of  a silver  worker  of 
great  skill,  who  was  principally  engaged  on  the 
execution  of  the  embossed  figures  and  vases  em- 
ployed in  the  Catholic  worship.  The  boy  at  a 
very  early  age  evinced  a most  decided  taste  for 
music,  a predilection  which  delighted  his  father, 
himself  an  enthusiastic  amateur,  and  caused  him 
to  bestow  the  utmost  pains  on  the  cultivation  of 
the  child’s  talents.  The  boy’s  first  master  was 
Buroni,  choir-master  a tone  of  the  churches,  and 
a relation  of  the  family.  Later,  young  Clementi 
took  lessons  in  thorough  bass  from  an  eminent 
organist,  Condicelli,  and  after  a couple  of  years’ 
application  he  was  thought  sufficiently  advanced 


MUZIO  CLEMENT!. 


189 


to  apply  for  the  position  of  organist,  which  he 
obtained,  his  age  then  being  barely  nine.  He 
prosecuted  his  studies  with  great  zeal  under  the 
ablest  masters,  and  his  genius  for  composition  as 
well  as  for  playing  displayed  a rapid  development. 
By  the  time  Clementi  had  attained  the  age  of 
fourteen  he  had  composed  several  contrapuntal 
works  of  considerable  merit,  one  of  which,  a mass 
for  four  voices  and  chorus,  gained  great  applause 
from  the  musicians  and  public  of  Rome. 

During  his  studies  of  counterpoint  and  the  or- 
gan Clementi  never  neglected  his  harpsichord,  on 
which  he  achieved  remarkable  proficiency,  for  the 
piano-forte  at  this  time,  though  gradually  coming 
into  use,  was  looked  on  rather  as  a curiosity  than 
an  instrument  of  practical  value.  The  turning- 
point  of  Clementi’s  life  occurred  in  1767,  through 
his  acquaintance  with  an  English  gentleman  of 
wealth,  Mr.  Peter  Beckford,  who  evinced  a deep 
interest  in  the  young  musician’s  career.  After 
much  opposition  Mr.  Beckford  persuaded  the  el- 
der Clementi  to  intrust  his  son’s  further  musical 
education  to  his  care.  The  country  seat  of  Mr, 
Beckford  was  in  Dorsetshire,  England,  and  here, 
by  the  aid  of  a fine  library,  social  surroundings  of 
the  most  favorable  kind,  and  indomitable  energy 
on  his  own  part,  he  speedily  made  himself  an 
adept  in  the  English  language  and  literature. 
The  talents  of  Clementi  made  him  almost  an  Ad- 
mirable Crichton,  for  it  is  asserted  that,  in  addi- 


190  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

tion  to  the  most  severe  musical  studies,  he  made 
himself  in  a few  years  a proficient  in  the  principal 
modern  languages,  in  Greek  and  Latin,  and  in 
the  whole  circle  of  the  belles-lettres.  His  studies 
in  his  own  art  were  principally  based  on  the  works 
of  Corelli,  Alexander  Scarlatti,  Handel’s  harpsi- 
chord and  organ  music,  and  on  the  sonatas  of 
Paradies,  a Neapolitan  composer  and  teacher,  who 
enjoyed  high  repute  in  London  for  many  years. 
Until  1770  Clementi  spent  his  time  secluded  at 
his  patron’s  country  seat,  and  then  fully  equipped 
with  musical  knowledge,  and  with  an  unequaled 
command  of  the  instrument,  he  burst  on  the  town 
as  pianist  and  composer.  He  had  already  written 
at  this  time  his  “ Opus  No.  2,”  which  established 
a new  era  for  sonata  compositions,  and  is  recog- 
nized to-day  as  the  basis  for  all  modern  works  of 
this  class. 

dementi’s  attainments  were  so  phenomenal 
that  he  carried  everything  before  him  in  London, 
and  met  with  a success  so  brilliant  as  to  be  almost 
without  precedent.  Socially  and  musically  he  was 
one  of  the  idols  of  the  hour,  and  the  great  Han- 
del himself  had  not  met  with  as  much  adulation. 
Apropos  of  the  great  sonata  above  mentioned, 
with  which  the  Clementi  furore  began  in  Lon- 
don, it  is  said  that  John  Christian  Bach,  son 
of  Sebastian,  one  of  the  greatest  executants  of 
the  time,  confessed  his  inability  to  do  it  justice, 
and  Schroter,  one  of  those  sharing  the  honor  of 


MUZIO  CLEMENT!. 


191 


the  invention  of  the  piano-forte,  and  a leading 
musician  of  his  age,  said,  “ Only  the  devil  and 
Clemen ti  could  play  it.”  For  seven  years  the 
subject  of  our  sketch  poured  forth  a succession  of 
brilliant  works,  continually  gave  concerts,  and  in 
addition  acted  as  conductor  of  the  Italian  opera,  a 
life  sufficiently  busy  for  the  most  ambitious  man. 

In  1780  Clementi  began  his  musical  travels, 
and  gave  the  first  concerts  of  his  tour  at  Paris, 
whither  he  was  accompanied  by  the  great  singer 
Pacchierotti.  He  was  received  with  the  greatest 
favor  by  the  queen,  Marie  Antoinette,  and  the 
court,  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  Gluck,  who 
warmly  admired  the  brilliant  player  who  had  so 
completely  revolutionized  the  style  of  execution 
on  instruments  with  a keyboard.  Here  he  also 
met  Viotti,  the  great  violinist,  and  played  a duo 
concertante  with  the  latter,  expressly  composed 
for  the  occasion.  Clementi  was  delighted  with 
the  almost  frantic  enthusiasm  of  the  French,  so 
different  from  the  more  temperate  approbation  of 
the  English.  He  was  wont  to  say  jocosely  that  he 
hardly  knew  himself  to  be  the  same  man.  From 
Paris  Clementi  passed,  via  Strasburg  and  Munich, 
where  he  was  most  cordially  welcomed,  to  Vienna, 
the  then  musical  Mecca  of  Europe,  for  it  con- 
tained two  world-famed  men — “ Papa  ” Haydn  and 
the  young  prodigy  Mozart.  The  Emperor  Joseph 
II,  a great  lover  of  music,  could  not  let  the  oppor- 
tunity slip,  for  he  now  had  a chance  to  determine 


102  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


which  was  the  greater  player,  his  own  pet  Mozart 
or  the  Anglo-Italian  stranger  whose  fame  as  an 
executant  had  risen  to  such  dimensions.  So  the 
two  musicians  fought  a musical  duel,  in  which 
they  played  at  sight  the  most  difficult  works,  and 
improvised  on  themes  selected  by  the  imperial  ar- 
biter. The  victory  was  left  undecided,  though  Mo- 
zart, who  disliked  the  Italians,  spoke  afterward  of 
Clementi,  in  a tone  at  variance  with  his  usual  gen- 
tleness, as  “a  mere  mechanician,  without  a pen- 
nyworth of  feeling  or  taste.”  Clementi  was  more 
generous,  for  he  couldn’t  say  too  much  of  Mo- 
zart’s “singing  touch  and  exquisite  taste,”  and 
dated  from  this  meeting  a considerable  difference 
in  his  own  style  of  play. 

With  the  exception  of  occasional  concert  tours 
to  Paris,  Clementi  devoted  all  his  time  up  to  1802 
in  England,  busy  as  conductor,  composer,  virtu- 
oso, and  teacher.  In  the  latter  capacity  he  was 
unrivaled,  and  pupils  came  to  him  from  all  parts 
of  Europe.  Among  these  pupils  were  John  B.  Cra- 
mer and  John  Field,  names  celebrated  in  music. 
In  1802  Clementi  took  the  brilliant  young  Irish- 
man, John  Field,  to  St.  Petersburg  on  a musical 
tour,  where  both  master  and  pupil  were  received 
with  unbounded  enthusiasm,  and  where  the  latter 
remained  in  affluent  circumstances,  having  mar- 
ried a Russian  lady  of  rank  and  wealth.  Field 
was  idolized  by  the  Russians,  and  they  claim  his 
compositions  as  belonging  to  their  music.  He  is 


MUZIO  CLEMENTI. 


103 

now  distinctively  remembered  as  the  inventor  of 
that  beautiful  form  of  musical  writing,  the  noc- 
turne. Spohr,  the  violinist,  met  Clementi  and 
Field  at  the  Russian  capital,  and  gives  the  follow- 
ing amusing  account  in  his  “Autobiography”: 
“Clementi,  a man  in  his  best  years,  of  an  ex- 
tremely lively  disposition  and  very  engaging  man- 
ners, liked  much  to  converse  with  me,  and  often 
invited  me  after  dinner  to  play  at  billiards.  In 
the  evening  I sometimes  accompanied  him  to  his 
large  piano  - forte  warehouse,  where  Field  was 
often  obliged  to  play  for  hours  to  display  instru- 
ments to  the  best  advantage  to  purchasers.  I 
have  still  in  recollection  the  figure  of  the  pale 
overgrown  youth,  whom  I have  never  since  seen. 
When  Field,  who  had  outgrown  his  clothes,  placed 
himself  at  the  piano,  stretching  out  his  arms  over 
the  keyboard,  so  that  the  sleeves  shrank  up  nearly 
to  the  elbow,  his  whole  figure  appeared  awkward 
and  stiff  in  the  highest  degree.  But,  as  soon  as 
his  touching  instrumentation  began,  everything 
else  was  forgotten,  and  one  became  all  ear.  Un- 
fortunately I could  not  express  my  emotion  and 
thankfulness  to  the  young  man  otherwise  than  by 
the  pressure  of  the  hand,  for  he  spoke  no  lan- 
guage but  his  mother  tongue.  Even  at  that 
time  many  anecdotes  of  the  remarkable  avarice 
of  the  rich  Clementi  were  related,  which  had 
greatly  increased  in  later  years  when  I again  met 
him  in  London.  It  was  generally  reported  that 


194  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


Field  was  kept  on  very  short  allowance  by  his 
master,  and  was  obliged  to  pay  for  the  good  for- 
tune of  having  his  instruction  by  many  priva- 
tions. I myself  experienced  a little  sample  of 
dementi’s  truly  Italian  parsimony,  for  one  day  I 
found  teacher  and  pupil  with  upturned  sleeves, 
engaged  at  the  wash-tub,  washing  their  stockings 
and  other  linen.  They  did  not  suffer  themselves 
to  be  disturbed,  and  Clementi  advised  me  to  do 
the  same,  as  washing  in  St.  Petersburg  was  not 
only  very  expensive,  but  the  linen  suffered  much 
from  the  method  used  in  washing  it.” 

From  the  above  it  may  be  suspected  that  Cle- 
menti was  not  only  player  and  composer,  but  man 
of  business.  He  had  been  very  successful  in 
money-making  in  England  from  the  start,  and 
it  was  not  many  years  before  he  accumulated  a 
sufficient  amount  to  buy  an  interest  in  the  firm  of 
Longman  & Broderip,  “manufacturers  of  musi- 
cal instruments,  and  music  sellers  to  their  majes- 
ties.” The  failure  of  the  house,  by  which  he  sus- 
tained heavy  losses,  induced  him  to  try  his  hand 
alone  at  music  publishing  and  piano-forte  manu- 
facturing ; and  his  great  success  (the  firm  is  still 
extant  in  the  person  of  his  partner’s  son,  Mr.  Col- 
lard)  proves  he  was  an  exception  to  the  majori- 
ty of  artists,  who  rarely  possess  business  talents. 
Clementi  met  many  reverses  in  his  commercial 
career.  In  March,  1807,  the  warehouses  occupied 
by  dementi’s  new  firm  were  destroyed  by  fire, 


MUZIO  CLEMENT!. 


195 


entailing  a loss  of  about  forty  thousand  pounds. 
But  the  man’s  courage  was  indomitable,  and  he 
retrieved  his  misfortunes  with  characteristic  pluck 
and  cheerfulness.  After  1810  he  gave  up  playing 
in  public,  and  devoted  himself  to  composing  and 
the  conduct  of  his  piano-forte  business,  which  be- 
came very  large  and  valuable.  Himself  an  in- 
ventor and  mechanician,  he  made  many  important 
improvements  in  the  construction  of  the  piano, 
some  of  whieh  have  never  been  superseded. 

III. 

Clem:ekti  numbers  among  his  pupils  more 
great  names  in  the  art  of  piano-forte  playing  than 
any  other  great  master.  This  is  partly  owing  to 
the  fact,  it  may  be,  that  he  began  his  career  in 
the  infancy  of  the  piano-forte  as  an  instrument, 
and  was  the  first  to  establish  a solid  basis  for  the 
technique  of  the  instrument.  In  addition  to  John 
Field  and  J.  B.  Cramer,  previously  mentioned,  were 
Zeuner,  Dussek,  Alex.  Kleugel,  Ludwig  Berger, 
Kalkbrenner,  Charles  Mayer,  and  Meyerbeer. 
These  musicians  not  only  added  richly  to  the  lit- 
erature of  the  piano-forte,  but  were  splendid  expo- 
nents of  its  powers  as  virtuosos.  But  mere  artis- 
tic fame  is  transitory,  and  it  is  in  dementi’s  con- 
tributions to  the  permanent  history  of  piano-forte 
playing  that  we  must  find  his  chief  claim  on  the 
admiration  of  posterity.  He  composed  not  a few 
works  for  the  orchestra,  and  transcriptions  of 


196  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

opera,  but  these  have  now  receded  to  the  lumber 
closet.  The  works  which  live  are  his  piano  con- 
certos, of  which  about  sixty  were  written  for  the 
piano  alone,  and  the  remainder  as  duets  or  trios  ; 
and,  par  excellence , his  “Gradus  ad  Parnassum,” 
a superb  series  of  one  hundred  studies,  upon  which 
even  to-day  the  solid  art  of  piano-forte  playing 
rests,  dementi’s  works  must  always  remain  in- 
dispensable to  the  pianist,  and,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  piano  technique  has  made  such  advances  dur- 
ing the  last  half  century,  there  are  several  of  de- 
menti’s sonatas  which  tax  the  utmost  skill  of  such 
players  as  Liszt  and  Von  Bulow,  to  whom  all  or- 
dinary difficulty  is  merely  a plaything.  As  Viotti 
was  the  father  of  modern  violin-playing,  dementi 
may  be  considered  the  father  of  virfcuosoism  on 
the  piano-forte,  and  he  has  left  an  indelible  mark, 
both  mechanically  and  spiritually,  on  all  that  per- 
tains to  piano-playing.  Compared  with  dementi’s 
style  in  piano-forte  composition,  that  of  Haydn 
and  Mozart  appears  poor  and  thin.  Haydn  and 
Mozart  regarded  execution  as  merely  the  vehicle 
of  ideas,  and  valued  technical  brilliancy  less  than 
musical  substance.  Clementi,  on  the  other  hand, 
led  the  way  for  that  class  of  compositions  which 
pay  large  attention  to  manual  skill.  His  works 
can  not  be  said  to  burn  with  that  sacred  fire  which 
inspires  men  of  the  highest  genius,  but  they  are 
magnificently  modeled  for  the  display  of  technical 
execution,  brilliancy  of  effect,  and  virile  force  of 


MUZIO  CLEMENTI. 


197 


expression.  The  great  Beethoven,  who  composed 
the  greatest  works  for  the  piano-forte,  as  also  for 
the  orchestra,  had  a most  exalted  estimate  of 
Clementi,  and  never  wearied  of  playing  his  music 
and  sounding  his  praises.  No  musician  has  prob- 
ably exerted  more  far-reaching  effects  in  this  de- 
partment of  his  art  than  Clementi,  though  he 
can  not  be  called  a man  of  the  highest  genius,  for 
this  lofty  attribute  supposes  great  creative  im- 
agination and  rich  resources  of  thought,  as  well 
as  knowledge,  experience,  skill,  and  transcendent 
aptitude  for  a single  instrument. 

As  far  as  a musician  of  such  unique  and  colos- 
sal genius  as  Beethoven  could  be  influenced  by 
preceding  or  contemporary  artists,  his  style  as  a 
piano-forte  player  and  composer  was  more  modi- 
fied by  Clementi  than  by  any  other.  He  was 
wont  to  say  that  no  one  could  play  till  he  knew 
Clementi  by  heart.  He  adopted  many  of  the 
peculiar  figures  and  combinations  original  with 
Clementi,  though  his  musical  mentality,  incom- 
parably richer  and  greater  than  that  of  the  other, 
transfigured  them  into  a new  life.  That  Beetho- 
ven found  novel  means  of  expression  to  satisfy  the 
importunate  demands  of  his  musical  conceptions  ; 
that  his  piano  works  display  a greater  polyphony, 
stronger  contrasts,  bolder  and  richer  rhythm, 
broader  design  and  execution,  by  no  means  impair 
the  value  of  his  obligations  to  Clementi,  obligations 
which  the  most  arrogant  and  self-centered  of  men 


198  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

freely  allowed.  Beethoven's  fancy  was  penetrated 
by  all  the  qualities  of  tone  which  distinguish  the 
string,  reed,  and  brass  instruments  ; his  imagina- 
tion shot  through  and  through  with  orchestral 
color  ; and  he  succeeded  in  saturating  his  sonatas 
with  these  rich  effects  without  sacrificing  the 
specialty  of  the  piano-forte.  But  in  general  style 
and  technique  he  is  distinctly  a follower  of  de- 
menti. The  most  unique  and  splendid  personality 
in  music  has  thus  been  singled  out  as  furnishing 
a vivid  illustration  of  the  influence  exerted  by  de- 
menti in  the  department  of  the  piano-forte. 

dementi  lived  to  the  age  of  eighty,  and  spent 
the  last  twelve  years  of  his  life  in  London  uninter- 
ruptedly, his  growing  feebleness  preventing  him 
from  taking  his  usual  musical  trips  to  the  Conti- 
nent. He  retained  his  characteristic  energy  and 
freshness  of  mind  to  the  last,  and  was  held  in  the 
highest  honor  by  the  great  circle  of  artists  who 
had  centered  in  London,  for  he  was  the  musical 
patriarch  in  England,  as  Cherubini  was  in  France 
at  a little  later  date.  He  was  married  three  times, 
had  children  in  his  old  age,  and  only  a few  months 
before  his  death,  Moscheles  records  in  his  diary, 
he  was  able  to  arouse  the  greatest  enthusiasm  by 
the  vigor  and  brilliancy  of  his  playing,  in  spite  of 
his  enfeebled  physical  powers.  He  died  March  9, 
1832,  at  Eversham,  and  his  funeral  gathered  a 
great  convocation  of  musical  celebrities.  His  life 
covered  an  immense  arch  in  the  history  of  music. 


MUZfO  CLEMENT!. 


199 


At  his  birth  Handel  was  alive  ; at  his  death  Bee- 
thoven, Schubert,  and  Weber  had  found  refuge  in 
the  grave  from  the  ingratitude  of  a contemporary 
public.  He  began  his  career  by  practicing  Scar- 
latti’s harpsichord  sonatas  ; he  lived  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  the  finest  piano-forte  works  of  all 
time.  When  he  first  used  the  piano,  he  practiced 
on  the  imperfect  and  feeble  Silbermann  instru- 
ment. When  he  died,  the  magnificent  instruments 
of  Erard,  Broadwood,  and  Collard,  to  the  latter 
of  which  his  own  mechanical  and  musical  knowl- 
edge had  contributed  much,  were  in  common 
vogue.  Such  was  the  career  of  Muzio  Clementi, 
the  father  of  piano-forte  virtuosos.  Had  he  lived 
later,  he  might  have  been  far  eclipsed  by  the  great 
players  who  have  since  adorned  the  art  of  music* 
As  Goethe  says,  through  the  mouthpiece  of  WiB 
helm  Meister  : “The  narrowest  man  may  be  com- 
plete while  he  moves  within  the  bounds  of  his 
own  capacity  and  acquirements,  but  even  fine 
qualities  become  clouded  and  destroyed  if  this 
indispensable  proportion  is  exceeded.  This  un- 
wholesome excess,  however,  will  begin  to  appear 
frequently,  for  who  can  suffice  to  the  swift  prog- 
ress and  increasing  requirements  of  the  ever-soar- 
ing present  time  ? ” But,  measured  by  his  own 
day  and  age,  Clementi  deserves  the  pedestal  on 
which  musical  criticism  has  placed  him. 


MOSOHELBS. 


Clementi  and  Mozart  as  Points  of  Departure  in  Piano-forte  Play- 
ing.— Moscheles  the  most  Brilliant  Climax  reached  by  the  Vi- 
ennese School. — His  Child-Life  at  Prague. — Extraordinary  Pre- 
cocity.— Goes  to  Vienna  as  the  Pupil  of  Salieri  and  Albrechts- 
burger. — Acquaintance  with  Beethoven. — Moscheles  is  hon- 
ored with  a Commission  to  make  a Piano  Transcription  of  Bee- 
thoven’s “Fidclio.” — His  Intercourse  with  the  Great  Man. — 
Concert  Tour. — Arrival  in  Paris. — The  Artistic  Circle  into 
which  he  is  received. — Pictures  of  Art-Life  in  Paris. — London 
and  its  Musical  Celebrities. — Career  as  a Wandering  Virtuoso. 
“-Felix  Mendelssohn  becomes  his  Pupil. — The  Mendelssohn 
Family. — Moscheles’ s Marriage  to  a Hamburg  Lady.— Settles  in 
London. — His  Life  as  Teacher,  Player,  and  Composer. — Emi- 
nent Place  taken  by  Moscheles  among  the  Musicians  of  his 
Age. — His  Efforts  soothe  the  Sufferings  of  Beethoven’s  Death- 
bed.—Friendship  for  Mendelssohn. — Moscheles  becomes  con- 
nected with  the  Leipzig  Conscrvatorium. — Death  in  1870.— 
Moscheles  as  Pianist  and  Composer. — Sympathy  with  the  Old 
as  against  the  New  School  of  the  Piano. — His  Powerful  Influ- 
ence on  the  Musical  Culture  and  Tendencies  of  his  Age. 


The  rivalry  of  Clementi  and  Mozart  as  expo- 
nents of  piano-forte  playing  in  their  day  was  con- 
tinued in  their  schools  of  performance.  The, 
original  cause  of  this  difference  was  largely  base 
on  the  character  of  the  instruments  on  whicj, 
they  played.  Clementi  used  the  English  pian 


MOSCIIELES. 


201 


forte,  and  Mozart  the  Viennese,  and  the  style  of 
execution  was  no  less  the  outcome  of  the  me- 
chanical difference  between  the  two  vehicles  of 
expression  than  the  result  of  personal  idiosyn- 
crasies. The  English  instrument  was  speedily 
developed  into  the  production  of  a richer,  fuller, 
and  more  sonorous  tone,  while  the  Viennese 
piano-forte  continued  for  a long  time  to  be  dis- 
tinguished by  its  light,  thin,  sweet  quality  of 
sound,  and  an  action  so  sensitive  that  the  slighest 
pressure  produced  a sound  from  the  key,  so  that 
the  term  “breathing  on  the  keys”  became  a cur-' 
rent  expression,  dementi’s  piano  favored  a bold, 
masculine,  brilliant  style  of  playing,  while  the 
Viennese  piano  led  to  a rapid,  fluent,  delicate 
treatment.  The  former  player  founded  the 
school  which  has  culminated,  through  a series 
of  great  players,  in  the  magnificent  virtuosoism 
of  Franz  Liszt,  while  the  Vienna  school  has  no 
nearer  representative  than  Ignaz  Mosclieles,  one 
of  the  greatest  players  in  the  history  of  the  piano- 
forte, who,  whether  judged  by  his  gifts  as  a con- 
cert performer,  a composer  for  the  instrument 
which  he  so  brilliantly  adorned,  or  from  his  social 
and  intellectual  prominence,  must  be  set  apart 
as  peculiarly  a representative  man.  There  were 
other  eminent  players,  such  as  Hummel,  Czerny, 
and  Herz,  contemporary  with  Mosclieles  and  be- 
longing to  the  same  genre  as  a pianist,  but  these 
names  do  not  stand  forth  with  the  same  clear  and 


202  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

permanent  luster  in  their  relation  to  the  musical 
art. 

Ignaz  Moscheles  was  born  at  Prague,  May  30, 
1794,  his  parents  being  well-to-do  people  of  He- 
brew stock.  His  father,  a cloth  merchant,  was 
passionately  fond  of  music,  and  was  accustomed 
to  say,  “ One  of  my  children  must  become  a 
thoroughbred  musician.  ” Ignaz  was  soon  se- 
lected as  the  one  on  whom  the  experiment  should 
be  made,  and  the  rapid  progress  he  made  justified 
the  accident  of  choice,  for  all  of  the  family  pos- 
sessed some  musical  talent.  The  boy  progressed 
too  fast,  for  he  attempted  at  the  age  of  seven  to 
play  Beethoven’s  “ Sonata  Pathetique.”  He  was 
traveling  on  the  wrong  road,  attempting  what  he 
could  in  no  way  attain,  when  his  father  took  him 
to  Hionys  Weber,  one  of  the  best  teachers  of  the 
time.  “I  come,”  said  the  parent,  “to  you  as 
our  first  musician,  for  sincere  truth  instead  of 
empty  flattery.  I want  to  find  out  from  you  if 
my  boy  has  such  genuine  talent  that  you  can  make 
a really  good  musician  of  him.”  “ Naturally,  I 
was  called  on  to  play,”  says  Moscheles,  in  his  “ Au- 
tobiography,” “ and  I was  bungler  enough  to 
do  it  with  some  conceit.  My  mother  having 
decked  me  out  in  my  Sunday  best,  I played 
my  best  piece,  Beethoven’s  ‘ Sonata  Pathe- 
tique.’ But  what  was  my  astonishment  on  find- 
ing that  I was  neither  interrupted  by  bravos  nor 
overwhelmed  by  praise  ! and  what  were  my  feel- 


MOSCHELES. 


203 


ings  when  Dionys  Weber  finally  delivered  him- 
self thus  : 

“ ‘ Candidly  speaking,  the  boy  has  talent,  but 
is  on  the  wrong  road,  for  he  makes  bosh  of  great 
works  which  he  does  not  understand,  and  to  which 
lie  is  utterly  unequal.  I could  make  something 
of  him  if  you  could  hand  him  over  to  me  for 
three  years,  and  follow  out  my  plan  to  the  letter. 
The  first  year  he  must  play  nothing  but  Mozart, 
the  second  Clementi,  and  the  third  Bach  ; but 
only  that : not  a note  as  yet  of  Beethoven  ; and  if 
he  persists  in  using  the  circulating  libraries,  I 
have  done  with  him  for  ever.’” 

This  scheme  was  followed  out  strictly,  and 
Moscheles  at  the  age  of  fourteen  had  acquired  a 
sufficient  mastery  of  the  piano  to  give  a concert 
at  Prague  with  brilliant  success.  The  young 
musician  continued  to  pursue  his  studies  assidu- 
ously under  Weber’s  direction  until  his  father’s 
death,  and  his  mother  then  determined  to  yield 
to  his  oft-repeated  wish  to  try  his  musical  for- 
tunes in  a larger  field,  and  win  his  own  way  in 
life.  So  young  Ignaz,  little  more  than  a child, 
went  to  Vienna,  where  he  was  warmly  received 
in  the  hospitable  musical  circles  of  that  capital. 
He  took  lessons  in  counterpoint  from  Albrechts- 
burger,  and  in  composition  from  Salieri,  and  in 
all  ways  indicated  that  serene,  tireless  industry 
which  marked  his  whole  after-career.  Moscheles 
spent  eight  years  at  Vienna,  continually  growing 


204  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


in  estimation  as  artist  and  beginning  to  make  his 
mark  as  a composer.  His  own  reminiscences  of 
the  brilliant  and  gifted  men  who  clustered  in  Vi- 
enna are  very  pleasant,  but  it  is  to  Beethoven 
that  his  admiration  specially  went  forth.  The 
great  master  liked  his  young  disciple  much,  and 
proposed  to  him  that  he  should  set  the  numbers 
of  “Fidelio”  for  the  piano,  a task  which,  it  is 
needless  to  say,  was  gladly  accepted.  Moscheles 
tells  us  one  morning,  when  he  went  to  see  Bee- 
thoven, he  found  him  lying  in  bed.  “He  hap- 
pened to  be  in  remarkably  good  spirits,  jumped 
up  immediately,  and  placed  himself,  just  as  he 
was,  at  the  window  looking  out  on  the  Schotten- 
bastei,  with  the  view  of  examining  the  6 Fidelio  ’ 
numbers  which  I had  arranged.  Naturally,  a 
crowd  of  street-boys  collected  under  the  window, 
when  he  roared  out,  6 Now,  what  do  these  con- 
founded boys  want  ?’  I laughed  and  pointed  to 
his  own  figure.  6 Yes,  yes  ! You  are  quite  right/ 
he  said,  and  hastily  put  on  a dressing-gown.” 
Moscheles’s  associations  were  even  at  this  early 
period  with  all  the  foremost  people  of  the  age, 
and  he  was  cordially  welcome  in  every  circle.  He 
composed  a good  deal,  besides  giving  concerts  and 
playing  in  private  select  circles,  and  was  recog- 
nized as  being  the  equal  of  Hummel,  who  had 
hitherto  been  accepted  as  the  great  piano  virtuoso 
of  Vienna.  The  two  were  very  good  friends  in 
spite  of  their  rivalry.  They,  as  well  as  all  the 


M0SCI1ELES. 


205 


Viennese  musicians,  were  bound  together  by  a 
common  tie,  very  well  expressed  in  the  saying  of 
Moscheles  : “We  musicians,  whatever  we  be,  are 
mere  satellites  of  the  great  Beethoven,  the  daz- 
zling luminary.” 

In  the  autumn  of  1816  Moscheles  bade  a sor- 
rowful adieu  to  the  imperial  city,  where  he  had 
spent  so  many  happy  years,  to  undertake  an  ex- 
tended concert  tour,  armed  with  letters  of  intro- 
duction to  all  the  courts  of  Europe  from  Prince 
Lichtenstein,  Countess  Hardigg,  and  other  influ- 
ential admirers.  He  proceeded  directly  to  Leip- 
zig, where  he  was  warmly  received  by  the  musical 
fraternity  of  that  city,  especially  by  the  Wiecks, 
of  whose  daughter  Clara  he  speaks  in  highly  eu- 
logistic words.  He  played  his  own  compositions, 
which  already  began  to  show  that  serene  and  fin- 
ished beauty  so  characteristic  of  his  after-writ- 
ings. A similar  success  greeted  him  at  Dresden, 
where,  among  other  concerts,  he  gave  one  before 
the  court.  Of  this  entertainment  Moscheles 
writes  : “ The  court  actually  dined  (this  barbar- 
ous custom  still  prevails),  and  the  royal  household 
listened  in  the  galleries,  while  I and  the  court 
band  made  music  to  them,  and  barbarous  it  really 
was ; but,  in  regard  to  truth,  I must  add  that  roy- 
alty and  also  the  lackeys  kept  as  quiet  as  possible, 
and  the  former  congratulated  me,  and  actually 
condescended  to  admit  me  to  friendly  conversa- 


206  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

tion.”  He  continued  his  concerts  in  Munich, 
Augsburg,  Amsterdam,  Brussels,  and  other  cities, 
creating  the  most  genuine  admiration  wherever 
he  went,  and  finally  reached  Paris  in  December, 
1817. 

Here  our  young  artist  was  promptly  received 
in  the  extraordinary  world  of  musicians,  artists, 
authors,  wits,  and  social  celebrities  which  then, 
as  now,  made  Paris  so  delightful  for  those  pos- 
sessing the  countersign  of  admission.  Baillot, 
the  violinist,  gave  a private  concert  in  his  honor, 
in  which  he  in  company  with  Spohr  played  before 
an  audience  made  up  of  such  artists  and  celebrities 
as  Cherubini,  Auber,  Herold,  Adam,  Lesueur, 
Pacini,  Paer,  Habeneck,  Plantade,  Blangini,  La- 
font,  Pleyel,  Ivan  Muller,  Viotti,  Pellegrini, 
Boieldieu,  Schlesinger,  Manuel  Garcia,  and  others. 
These  areopagites  of  music  set  the  mighty  seal  of 
their  approval  on  Moscheles’s  genius.  He  was  in- 
vited everywhere,  to  dinners,  balls,  and  fetes , and 
there  was  no  salon  in  Paris  so  high  and  exclusive 
which  did  not  feel  itself  honored  by  his  presence. 
His  public  concerts  were  thronged  with  the  best 
and  most  critical  audiences,  and  he  by  no  means 
shone  the  less  that  he  appeared  in  conjunction 
with  other  distinguished  artists.  He  often  enter- 
tained parties  of  jovial  artists  at  his  lodgings,  and 
music,  punch,  and  supper  enlivened  the  night 
till  3 a.  m.  Whoever  could  play  or  sing  was 
present,  and  good  music  alternated  with  amus- 


MOSCIIELES. 


207 


ing  tricks  played  on  the  respective  instruments. 
“Altogether,”  he  writes,  “it  is  a happy,  merry 
time  ! Certainly,  at  the  last  state  dinner  of  the 
Rothschilds,  in  the  presence  of  such  notabilities 
as  Canning  or  Narischkin,  I was  obliged  to  keep 
rather  in  the  background.  The  invitation  to  a 
large,  brilliant,  but  ceremonious  ball  appears  a 
very  questionable  way  of  showing  me  attention. 
The  drive  up,  the  endless  queue  of  carriages, 
wearied  me,  and  at  last  I got  out  and  walked. 
There,  too,  I found  little  pleasure.”  On  the 
other  hand,  he  praises  the  performance  of  Gluck’s 
opera  at  the  house  of  the  Erards.  The  “ con- 
certs spirituels  ” delight  him.  “ Who  would  not,” 
he  says,  “envy  me  this  enjoyment  ? These  con- 
certs justly  enjoy  a world- wide  celebrity.  There 
I listen  with  the  most  solemn  earnestness.”  On 
the  other  hand,  there  are  cheerful  episodes,  and 
jovial  dinners  with  Carl  Blum  and  Schlesinger, 
at  the  Restaurant  Lemelle.  “Yesterday,”  he 
writes,  “Schlesinger  quizzed  me  about  my  slow- 
ness in  eating,  and  went  so  far  as  to  make  the 
stupid  bet  with  me,  that  he  would  demolish 
three  dozen  oysters  while  I ate  one  dozen,  and  he 
was  quite  right.  On  perceiving,  however,  that 
he  was  on  the  point  of  winning,  I took  to  making 
faces,  made  him  laugh  so  heartily  that  he  couldn’t 
go  on  eating  ; thus  I won  my  bet.”  We  find  the 
following  notice  on  the  20th  of  March  : “ I spent 
the  evening  at  Ciceri’s,  son-in-law  of  Isabey,  the 


208  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


famous  painter,  where  I was  introduced  to  one  of 
the  most  interesting  circles  of  artists.  In  the 
first  room  were  assembled  the  most  famous  paint- 
ers, engaged  in  drawing  several  things  for  their 
own  amusement.  In  the  midst  of  these  was 
Cherubini,  also  drawing.  I had  the  honor,  like 
every  one  newly  introduced,  of  having  my  portrait 
taken  in  caricature.  Begasse  took  me  in  hand, 
and  succeeded  well.  In  an  adjoining  room  were 
musicians  and  actors,  among  them  Ponchard,  Le- 
vasseur,  Dugazon,  Panseron,  Mile,  de  Munck, 
and  Mme.  Livere,  of  the  Theatre  Frantjais.  The 
most  interesting  of  their  performances,  which  I 
attended  merely  as  a listener,  was  a vocal  quartet 
by  Cherubini,  performed  under  his  direction. 
Later  in  the  evening,  the  whole  party  armed  itself 
with  larger  or  smaller  ‘ mirlitons  9 (reed-pipe  whis- 
tles), and  on  these  small  monotonous  instruments, 
sometimes  made  of  sugar,  they  played,  after  the 
fashion  of  Russian  horn  music,  the  overture  to 
‘Demophon,9  two  frying-pans  representing  the 
drums.59  On  the  27th  of  March  this  “mirliton  55 
concert  was  repeated  at  Ciceri’s,  and  on  this  occa- 
sion Cherubini  took  an  active  part.  Moscheles 
relates  : “ Horace  Yernet  entertained  us  with  his 
ventriloquizing  powers,  M.  Salmon  with  his  imi- 
tation of  a horn,  and  Dugazon  actually  with  a 
‘ mirliton 5 solo.  Lafont  and  I represented  the 
classical  music,  which,  after  all,  held  its  own." 

It  was  hard  to  tear  himself  from  these  gay- 


MOSCHELES. 


209 


eties  ; but  he  had  not  visited  London,  and  he  was 
anxious  to  make  himself  known  at  a musical  capi- 
tal inferior  to  none  in  Europe.  He  little  thought 
that  in  London  he  was  destined  to  find  his  second 
home.  He  plunged  into  the  gayeties  and  enjoy- 
ments of  the  English  capital  with  no  less  zest 
than  he  had  already  experienced  in  Paris.  He 
found  such  great  players  as  J.  B.  Cramer,  Ferdi- 
nand Ries,  Kalkbrenner,  and  Clementi  in  the  field  ; 
but  our  young  artist  did  not  altogether  lose  by 
comparison.  Among  other  distinguished  musi- 
cians, Moscheles  also  met  Kiesewetter,  the  violin- 
ist, the  great  singers  Mara  and  Catalani,  and 
Dragonetti,  the  greatest  of  double-bass  players. 
Dragonetti  was  a most  eccentric  man,  and  of  him 
Moscheles  says  : “ In  his  salon  in  Liecester  Square 
he  has  collected  a large  number  of  various  kinds 
of  dolls,  among  them  a negress.  When  visitors 
are  announced,  he  politely  receives  them,  and  says 
that  this  or  that  young  lady  will  make  room  for 
them  ; he  also  asks  his  intimate  acquaintances 
whether  his  favorite  dolls  look  better  or  worse 
since  their  last  visit,  and  similar  absurdities.  He 
is  a terrible  snuff-taker,  helping  himself  out  of  a 
gigantic  snuff-box,  and  he  has  an  immense  and 
varied  collection  of  snuff-boxes.  The  most  curi- 
ous part  of  him  is  his  language,  a regular  jargon, 
in  which  there  is  a mixture  of  his  native  Berga- 
mese,  bad  French,  and  still  worse  English. ” 

During  the  several  months  of  this  first  English 


210  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

visit  Moscheles  made  many  acquaintances  which 
were  destined  to  ripen  into  solid  friendships,  and 
gave  many  concerts  in  which  the  most  distin- 
guished artists,  vocal  and  instrumental,  partici- 
pated. Altogether,  he  appears  to  have  been  de- 
lighted with  the  London  art  and  social  world  little 
less  than  he  had  been  with  that  of  Paris.  He 
returned,  however,  to  the  latter  city  in  August, 
and  again  became  a prominent  figure  in  the  most 
fashionable  and  admired  concerts.  During  this 
visit  to  Paris  he  writes  in  his  diary:  “Young 
Erard  took  me  to-day  to  his  piano-forte  factory 
to  try  the  new  invention  of  his  uncle  Sebastian. 
This  quicker  action  of  the  hammer  seems  to  me 
so  important  that  I prophesy  a new  era  in  the 
manufacture  of  piano-fortes.  I still  complain  of 
some  heaviness  in  the  touch,  and,  therefore,  prefer 
to  play  on  Pape’s  and  Petzold’s  instruments  (Vien- 
nese pianos).  I admired  the  Erards,  but  am  not 
thoroughly  satisfied,  and  urged  him  to  make  new 
improvements.” 

From  1815,  when  Moscheles  began  his  career 
as  a virtuoso  in  the  production  of  his  “Varia- 
tionen  fiber  den  Alexandermarsch,”  to  1826,  he 
established  a great  reputation  as  a virtuoso  and 
composer  for  the  piano-forte.  Though  he  played 
his  own  works  at  concerts  with  marked  approba- 
tion, he  also  became  distinguished  as  an  interpret- 
er of  Mozart  and  Beethoven,  for  whom  he  had  a 
reverential  admiration.  Moscheles  often  records 


MOSCHELES. 


211 


his  own  sense  of  insignificance  by  the  side  of 
these  Titans  of  music.  A delightful  characteris- 
tic of  the  man  was  his  modesty  about  himself, 
and  his  genial  appreciation  of  other  musicians. 
Nowhere  do  those  performers  who,  for  example, 
came  in  active  rivalry  with  himself,  receive  more 
cordial  and  unalloyed  praise.  Moscheles  was  en- 
tirely devoid  of  that  littleness  which  finds  vent 
in  envy  and  jealousy,  and  was  as  frank  and  sym- 
pathetic in  his  estimate  of  others  as  he  was  am- 
bitious and  industrious  in  the  development  of  his 
own  great  talents.  In  1824  he  gave  piano-forte 
lessons  to  Felix  Mendelssohn,  then  a youth  of 
fifteen,  at  Berlin.  He  wrote  of  the  Mendelssohn 
family:  “This  is  a family  the  like  of  which  I 
have  never  known.  Felix,  a boy  of  fifteen,  is  a 
phenomenon.  What  are  all  prodigies  as  com- 
pared with  him  ? Gifted  children,  but  nothing 
else.  This  Felix  Mendelssohn  is  already  a mature 
artist,  and  yet  but  fifteen  years  old  ! We  at  once 
settled  down  together  for  several  hours,  for  I was 
obliged  to  play  a great  deal,  when  really  I wanted 
to  hear  him  and  see  his  compositions,  for  Felix 
had  to  show  me  a concerto  in  0 minor,  a double 
concerto,  and  several  motets  ; and  all  so  full  of 
genius,  and  at  the  same  time  so  correct  and  thor- 
ough ! His  elder  sister  Fanny,  also  extraordi- 
narily gifted,  played  by  heart,  and  with  admirable 
precision,  fugues  and  passacailles  by  Bach.  I 
think  one  may  well  call  her  a thorough  ‘ Mus. 


212  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

Doc.’  (guter  Musiker).  Both  parents  give  one 
the  impression  of  being  people  of  the  highest  re- 
finement. They  are  far  from  overrating  their 
children’s  talents  ; in  fact,  they  are  anxious  about 
Felix’s  future,  and  to  know  whether  his  gift  will 
prove  sufficient  to  lead  to  a noble  and  truly  great 
career.  Will  he  not,  like  so  many  other  brilliant 
children,  suddenly  collapse  ? I asserted  my  con- 
scientious conviction  that  Felix  would  ultimately 
become  a great  master,  that  I had  not  the  slight- 
est doubt  of  his  genius  ; but  again  and  again  I 
had  to  insist  on  my  opinion  before  they  believed 
me.  These  two  are  not  specimens  of  the  genus 
prodigy-parents  (Wunderkinds  El  tern),  such  as  I 
most  frequently  endure.”  Moscheles  soon  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  to  give  Felix  regular  les- 
sons was  useless.  Only  a little  hint  from  time  to 
time  was  necessary  for  the  marvelous  youth,  who 
had  already  begun  to  compose  works  which  ex- 
cited Moscheles’s  deepest  admiration. 

III. 

In  January,  1825,  Moscheles,  in  the  course  of 
his  musical  wanderings,  gave  several  concerts  at 
Hamburg.  Among  the  crowd  of  listeners  who 
came  to  hear  the  great  pianist  was  Charlotte 
Embden,  the  daughter  of  an  excellent  Hamburg 
family.  She  was  enchanted  by  the  playing  of 
Moscheles,  and,  when  she  accidentally  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  performer  at  the  house  of  a 


MOSCHELES. 


213 


mutual  acquaintance,  the  C3uple  quickly  became 
enamored  of  each  other.  A brief  engagement  of 
less  than  a month  was  followed  by  marriage,  and 
so  Moscheles  entered  into  a relation  singularly 
felicitous  in  all  the  elements  which  make  domes- 
tic life  most  blessed.  After  a brief  tour  in  the 
Khenish  cities,  and  a visit  to  Paris,  Moscheles 
proceeded  to  London,  where  he  had  determined 
to  make  his  home,  for  in  no  country  had  such 
genuine  and  unaffected  cordiality  been  shown 
him,  and  nowhere  were  the  rewards  of  musical 
talent,  whether  as  teacher,  virtuoso,  or  composer, 
more  satisfying  to  the  man  of  high  ambition. 
He  made  London  his  home  for  twenty  years,  and 
during  this  time  became  one  of  the  most  promi- 
nent figures  in  the  art  circles  of  that  great  city. 
Moscheles’s  mental  accomplishments  and  singu- 
lar geniality  of  nature  contributed,  with  his  very 
great  abilities  as  a musician,  to  give  him  a posi- 
tion attained  by  but  few  artists.  He  gave  lessons 
to  none  but  the  most  talented  pupils,  and  his 
services  were  sought  by  the  most  wealthy  families 
of  the  English  capital,  though  the  ability  to  pay 
great  prices  was  by  no  means  a passport  to  the 
good  graces  of  Moscheles.  Among  the  pupils 
who  early  came  under  the  charge  of  this  great 
master  was  Thalberg,  who  even  then  was  a bril- 
liant player,  but  found  in  the  exact  knowledge 
and  great  experience  of  Moscheles  that  which 
gave  the  crowning  finish  to  his  style.  Busy  in 


214  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

teaching,  composing,  and  public  performance ; 
busy  in  responding  to  the  almost  incessant  de- 
mands made  by  social  necessity  on  one  who  was 
not  only  intimate  in  the  best  circles  of  London 
society,  but  the  center  to  whom  all  foreign  ar- 
tists of  merit  gravitated  instantly  they  arrived 
in  London  ; busy  in  confidential  correspondence 
with  all  the  great  musicians  of  Europe,  who  dis- 
cussed with  the  genial  and  sympathetic  Moscheles 
all  their  plans  and  aspirations,  and  to  whom  they 
turned  in  their  moments  of  trouble,  he  was  in- 
deed a busy  man  ; and  had  it  not  been  for  the 
loving  labors  of  his  wife,  who  was  his  secretary, 
his  musical  copyist,  and  his  assistant  in  a myriad 
of  ways,  he  would  have  been  unequal  to  his  bur- 
den. Moscheles’s  diary  tells  the  story  of  a man 
whose  life,  though  one  of  tireless  industry,  was 
singularly  serene  and  happy,  and  without  those 
salient  accidents  and  vicissitudes  which  make  up 
the  material  of  a picturesque  life. 

He  made  almost  yearly  tours  to  the  Continent 
for  concert-giving  purposes,  and  kept  his  friend- 
ship with  the  great  composers  of  the  Continent 
green  by  personal  contact*  Beethoven  was  the 
god  of  his  musical  idolatry,  and  his  pilgrimage 
to  Vienna  was  always  delightful  to  him.  When 
Beethoven,  in  the  early  part  of  1827,  was  in  dire 
distress  from  poverty,  just  before  his  death,  it 
wTas  to  Moscheles  that  he  applied  for  assistance  ; 
and  it  was  this  generous  friend  who  promptly 


MOSCIIELES. 


215 


arranged  the  concert  with  the  Philharmonic  So- 
ciety by  which  one  hundred  pounds  sterling  was 
raised  to  alleviate  the  dying  moments  of  the  great 
man  whom  his  own  countrymen  would  have  let 
starve,  even  as  they  had  allowed  Schubert  and 
Mozart  to  suffer  the  direst  want  on  their  death- 
beds. 

An  adequate  record  of  Moscheles’s  life  during 
the  twenty  years  of  his  London  career  would  be  a 
pretty  full  record  of  all  matters  of  musical  inter- 
est occurring  during  this  time.  In  1832  he  was 
made  one  of  the  directors  of  the  Philharmonic 
Society,  and  in  1837-’38  he  conducted  with  sig- 
nal success  Beethoven’s  “ Ninth  Symphony.” 
When  Sir  Henry  Bishop  resigned,  in  1845,  Mo- 
scheles  was  made  the  conductor,  and  thereafter 
wielded  the  baton  over  this  orchestra,  the  no- 
blest in  England.  Among  the  yearly  pleasures 
to  which  our  pianist  looked  forward  with  the 
greatest  interest  were  the  visits  of  Mendelssohn, 
between  whom  and  Moscheles  there  was  the  most 
tender  friendship.  Whole  pages  of  his  diary  are 
given  up  to  an  account  of  Mendelssohn’s  doings, 
and  to  the  most  enthusiastic  expression  of  his 
love  and  admiration  for  one  of  the  greatest  musi- 
cal geniuses  of  modern  times. 

We  can  not  attempt  to  follow  up  the  placid 
and  gentle  current  of  Moscheles’s  life,  flowing  on 
to  ever-increasing  honor  and  usefulness,  but  has- 
ten to  the  period  when  he  left  England  in  1846, 
35 


216  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

to  become  Associated  with  Mendelssohn  in  the 
conduct  of  the  Leipzig  Conservatorium,  then  re- 
cently organized.  Mendelssohn  lived  but  a few 
months  after  achieving  this  great  monument  of 
musical  education,  but  Moscheles  remained  con- 
nected with  it  for  nearly  twenty  years,  and  to  his 
great  zeal,  knowledge,  and  executive  skill  is  due 
in  large  measure  the  solid  success  of  the  institu- 
tion. Mendelssohn’s  early  death,  while  yet  in  the 
very  prime  of  creative  genius,  was  a stunning 
blow  to  Moscheles  ; more  so,  perhaps,  than  would 
have  occurred  from  the  loss  of  any  one  except  his 
beloved  wife,  the  mother  of  his  five  children. 
Our  musician  died  himself,  in  Leipzig,  March  10, 
1870,  and  his  passage  from  this  world  was  as  se- 
rene and  quiet  as  his  passage  through  had  been. 
He  lived  to  see  his  daughters  married  to  men  of 
high  worth  and  position,  and  his  sons  substantial- 
ly placed  in  life.  Perhaps  few  distinguished  mu- 
sicians have  lived  a life  of  such  monotonous  hap- 
piness, unmarked  by  those  events  which,  while 
they  give  romantic  interest  to  a career,  make  the 
gift  at  the  expense  of  so  much  personal  misery. 

IV. 

As  a pianist  Moscheles  was  distinguished  by 
an  incisive,  brilliant  touch,  wonderfully  clear, 
precise  phrasing,  and  close  attention  to  the  care- 
ful accentuation  of  every  phase  of  the  composer’s 
meaning.  Of  the  younger  composers  for  the 


MOSCHELES. 


217 


piano,  Mendelssohn  and  Schumann  were  the  only 
ones  with  whose  works  he  had  any  sympathy, 
though  he  often  complains  of  the  latter  on  ac- 
count of  his  mysticism.  His  intelligence  had  as 
much  if  not  more  part  in  his  art  work  than 
his  emotions,  and  to  this  we  may  attribute  that 
fine  symmetry  and  balance  in  his  own  composi- 
tions, which  make  them  equal  in  this  respect  to 
the  productions  of  Mendelssohn.  Chopin  he  re- 
garded with  a sense  of  admiration  mingled  with 
dread,  for  he  could  by  no  means  enter  into  the 
peculiar  conditions  which  make  the  works  of  the 
Polish  composer  so  unique.  He  wrote  of  Cho- 
pin’s “Etudes,”  in  1838:  “My  thoughts  and 
consequently  my  fingers  ever  stumble  and  sprawl 
at  certain  crude  modulations,  and  I find  Chopin’s 
productions  on  the  whole  too  sugared,  too  little 
worthy  of  a man  and  an  educated  musician, 
though  there  is  much  charm  and  originality  in 
the  national  color  of  his  motive.”  When  he 
heard  Chopin  play  in  after-years,  however,  he 
confessed  the  fascination  of  the  performance, 
and  bewailed  his  own  incapacity  to  produce  snch 
effects  in  execution,  though  himself  one  of  the 
greatest  pianists  in  the  world.  So,  too,  Mo- 
scheles,  though  dazzled  by  Liszt’s  brilliant  virtu- 
osoism  and  power  of  transforming  a single  instru- 
ment into  an  orchestra,  shook  his  head  in  doubt 
over  such  performances,  and  looked  on  them  as 
charlatanism,  which,  however  magnificent  as  an 


218  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


exhibition  of  talent,  would  ultimately  help  to 
degrade  the  piano  by  carrying  it  out  of  its  true 
sphere.  Moscheles  himself  was  a more  bold  and 
versatile  player  than  any  other  performer  of  his 
school,  but  he  aimed  assiduously  to  confine  his 
efforts  within  the  perfectly  legitimate  and  well- 
established  channels  of  pianism. 

As  an  extemporaneous  player,  perhaps  no 
pianist  has  ever  lived  who  could  surpass  Mo- 
scheles. His  improvisation  on  themes  suggested 
by  the  audience  always  made  one  of  the  most 
attractive  features  of  his  concerts.  His  profound 
musical  knowledge,  his  strong  sense  of  form,  the 
clearness  and  precision  with  which  he  instinct- 
ively clothed  his  ideas,  as  well  as  the  fertility  of 
the  ideas  themselves,  gave  his  improvised  pieces 
something  of  the  same  air  of  completeness  as  if 
they  were  the  outcome  of  hours  of  laborious 
solitude.  His  very  lack  of  passion  and  fire  were 
favorable  to  this  clear-cut  and  symmetrical  ex- 
pression. His  last  improvisation  in  public,  on 
themes  furnished  by  the  audience,  formed  part 
of  the  programme  of  a concert  at  London,  in 
1865,  given  by  Mme.  Jenny  Lind  Goldschmidt, 
in  aid  of  the  sufferers  by  the  war  between  Austria 
and  Prussia,  where  he  extemporized  for  half  an 
hour  on  “ See  the  Conquering  Hero  Comes,”  and 
on  a theme  from  the  andante  of  Beethoven’s  C 
Minor  Symphony,  in  a most  brilliant  and  astom 
ishing  style. 


MOSCHELES. 


219 


Aside  from  his  greatness  as  a virtuoso  and 
composer  for  the  piano-forte,  whose  works  will 
always  remain  classics  in  spite  of  vicissitudes  of 
public  opinion,  even  as  those  of  Spohr  will  for 
the  violin,  the  influence  of  Mosclieles  in  further- 
ance of  a solid  and  true  musical  taste  was  very 
great,  and  worthy  of  special  notice.  Perhaps  no 
one  did  more  to  educate  the  English  mind  up  to 
a full  appreciation  of  the  greatest  musical  works. 
As  teacher,  conductor,  player,  and  composer,  the 
life  of  Ignaz  Mosclieles  was  one  of  signal  and 
permanent  worth,  and  its  influences  fertilized  in 
no  inconsiderable  streams  the  public  thought,  not 
only  of  his  own  times,  but  indirectly  of  the  gen- 
eration which  has  followed.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  attribute  to  him  transcendent  genius,  but  he 
possessed,  what  was  perhaps  of  equal  value  to  the 
world,  an  intellect  and  temperament  splendidly 
balanced  to  the  artistic  needs  of  his  epoch.  The 
list  of  Moscheles’s  numbered  compositions  reaches 
Op.  142,  besides  a large  number  of  ephemeral 
productions  which  he  did  not  care  to  preserve. 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


Robert  Schumann’s  Place  as  a National  Composer. —Peculiar 
Greatness  as  a Piano-forte  Composer. — Born  at  Zwickau  in 
1810. — His  Father’s  Aversion  to  his  Musical  Studies. — Becomes 
a Student  of  Jurisprudence  in  Leipzig. — Makes  the  Acquaint- 
ance of  Clara  Wieck. — Tedium  of  his  Law  Studies.— Vacation 
Tour  to  Italy. — Death  of  his  Father,  and  Consent  of  his  Mother 
to  Schumann  adopting  the  Profession  of  Music. — Becomes 
Wieck’s  Pupil. — Injury  to  his  Hand  which  prevents  all  Possibil- 
ities of  his  becoming  a Great  Performer. — Devotes  himself  to 
Composition. — The  Child,  Clara  Wieck  — Remarkable  Geni- 
us as  a Player. — Her  Early  Training. — Paganini’s  Delight  in 
her  Genius. — Clara  Wieck’s  Concert  Tours. — Schumann  falls 
deeply  in  Love  with  her,  and  Wieck’s  Opposition. — His  Al- 
lusions to  Clara  in  the  “ Neue  Zeitschrift.” — Schumann  at  Vi- 
enna.— His  Compositions  at  first  Unpopular,  though  played 
by  Clara  Wieck  and  Liszt. — Schumann’s  Labors  as  a Critic. — 
He  Marries  Clara  in  1840. — His  Song  Period  inspired  by  his 
Wife. — Tour  to  Russia,  and  Brilliant  Reception  given  to  the 
Artist  Pair. — The  “Neue  Zeitschrift”  and  its  Mission. — The 
Davidsbund. — Peculiar  Style  of  Schumann’s  Writing. — He 
moves  to  Dresden. — Active  Production  in  Orchestral  Compo- 
sition.— Artistic  Tour  in  Holland. — He  is  seized  with  Brain 
Disease. — Characteristics  as  a Man,  as  an  Artist,  and  as  a 
Philosopher. — Mme.  Schumann  as  her  Husband’s  Interpreter. 
— Chopin  a Colaborer  with  Schumann. --Schumann  on  Cho- 
pin again. — Chopin’s  Nativity.  — Exclusively  a Piano-forte 
Composer. — His  Genre  as  Pianist  and  Composer. — Aversion 
to  Concert-giving.  — Parisian  Associations.  — New  Style  of 
Technique  demanded  by  hifl  Works. — Unique  Treatment  of  the 
Instrument. — Characteristics  of  Chopin’s  Compositions. 

I. 

Robert  Schumann  shares  with  Weber  the 
honor  of  giving  the  earliest  impulse  to  what  may 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


221 


be  called  the  romantic  school  of  music,  which  has 
culminated  in . the  operatic  creations  of  Richard 
Wagner.  Greatly  to  the  gain  of  the  world,  his 
early  aspirations  as  a mere  player  were  crushed  by 
the  too  intense  zeal  through  which  he  attempted 
to  perfect  his  manipulation,  the  mechanical  con- 
trivance he  used  having  had  the  effect  of  paralyz- 
ing the  muscular  power  of  one  of  his  hands.  But 
this  department  of  art  work  was  nobly  borne  by  his 
gifted  wife,  nee  Clara  Wieck,  and  Schumann  con- 
centrated his  musical  ambition  in  the  higher  field 
of  composition,  leaving  behind  him  works  not  only 
remarkable  for  beauty  of  form,  but  for  poetic 
richness  of  thought  and  imagination.  Schumann 
composed  songs,  cantatas,  operas,  and  symphonies, 
but  it  is  in  his  works  for  the  piano-forte  that  his 
idiosyncrasy  was  most  strikingly  embodied,  and 
in  which  he  has  bequeathed  the  most  precious  in* 
heritance  to  the  world  of  art.  All  his  powers 
were  swept  impetuously  into  one  current,  the  po- 
etic side  of  art,  and  alike  as  critic  and  composer 
he  stands  in  a relation  to  the  music  of  the  piano* 
forte  which  places  him  on  a pinnacle  only  less 
lofty  than  that  of  Beethoven. 

Robert  Schumann  was  born  in  the  small  Saxon 
town  of  Zwickau  in  the  year  1810,  and  was  de- 
signed by  his  father,  a publisher  and  author  of 
considerable  reputation,  for  the  profession  of  the 
law.  The  elder  Schumann,  though  a man  of 
talent  and  culture,  had  a deep  distaste  for  his 


222  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

son’s  clearly  displayed  tendencies  to  music,  and 
though  he  permitted  him  to  study  something  of 
the  science  in  the  usual  school-boy  way  (for  mu- 
sic has  always  been  a part  of  the  educational 
course  in  Germany),  he  discouraged  in  every  way 
Robert’s  passion.  The  boy  had  quickly  become 
a clever  player,  and  even  at  the  age  of  eight  had 
begun  to  put  his  ideas  on  paper.  We  are  told  by 
his  biographers  that  he  was  accustomed  to  extem- 
porize at  school,  and  had  such  a knack  in  por- 
traying the  characteristics  of  his  school-fellows  in 
music  as  to  make  his  purpose  instantly  recogniz- 
able. His  father  died  when  Schumann  was  only 
seventeen,  and  his  mother,  who  was  also  bent  on 
her  son  becoming  a jurist,  became  his  guardian. 
It  was  a severe  battle  between  taste  and  duty, 
but  love  for  his  widowed  mother  conquered,  and 
young  Robert  Schumann  entered,  the  University 
of  Leipzig  as  a law  student.  It  was  with  a feeling 
almost  of  despair  that  he  wrote  at  this  time,  “I 
have  decided  upon  law  as  my  profession,  and  will 
work  at  it  industriously,  however  cold  and  dry 
the  beginning  may  be.”  Previously,  however,  he 
had  spent  a year  in  the  household  of  Frederick 
Wieck,  the  distinguished  teacher  of  music.  So 
much  he  had  exacted  before  succumbing  to  ma- 
ternal pleading.  At  this  time  he  first  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a charming  and  precocious  child, 
Clara  Wieck,  who  played  such  an  important  part 
in  his  future  life. 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


223 


Eobert  Schumann’s  law  studies  were  inex- 
pressibly tedious  to  him,  and  so  he  told  his  sym- 
pathetic professor,  the  learned  Thibaut,  author 
of  the  treatise  “On  the  Purity  of  Music,”  in  a 
characteristic  manner.  He  went  to  the  piano 
and  played  Weber’s  “Invitation  to  the  Waltz,” 
commenting  on  the  different  passages:  “Now 
she  speaks  — that’s  the  love  prattle  ; now  he 
speaks — that’s  the  man’s  earnest  voice  ; now  both 
the  lovers  speak  together”  ; concluding  with  the 
remark,  “ Isn’t  all  that  better  far  than  anything 
that  jurisprudence  can  utter  ? ” The  young  stu- 
dent became  quite  popular  in  society  as  a pianist, 
heard  Ernst  and  Paganini  for  the  first  time,  and 
composed  several  works,  among  them  the  Toccata 
in  D major.  The  genius  for  music  would  come 
to  the  fore  in  spite  of  jurisprudence.  A vacation 
trip  to  Italy  which  the  young  man  made  gave  fresh 
fuel  to  the  flame,  and  he  began  to  write  the  most 
passionate  pleas  to  his  mother  that  she  should  con- 
sent to  his  adoption  of  a musical  career.  The 
distressed  woman  wrote  to  Wieck  to  know  what 
he  thought,  and  the  answer  was  favorable  to  Eob- 
ert’s  aspirations.  Eobert  was  intoxicated  with 
his  mother’s  concession,  and  he  poured  out  his 
enthusiasm  to  Wieck  : “ Take  me  as  I am,  and, 
above  all,  bear  with  me.  No  blame  shall  depress 
me,  no  praise  make  me  idle.  Pails  upon  pails  of 
very  cold  theory  can  not  hurt  me,  and  I will  work 
at  it  without  the  least  murmur.” 


224  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


Taking  lodgings  at  the  house  of  Wieck,  Schu- 
mann devoted  himself  to  piano-forte  playing  with 
intense  ardor  ; but  his  zeal  outran  prudence.  To 
hasten  his  proficiency  and  acquire  an  indepen- 
dent action  for  each  finger,  he  contrived  a me- 
chanical apparatus  which  held  the  third  finger 
of  the  right  hand  immovable,  while  the  others 
went  through  their  evolutions.  The  result  was 
such  a lameness  of  the  hand  that  it  was  incurable, 
and  young  Schumann’s  career  as  a virtuoso  was 
for  ever  checked.  His  deep  sorrow,  however,  did 
not  unman  him  long,  for  he  turned  his  attention 
to  the  study  of  composition  and  counterpoint  un- 
der Kupsch,  and,  afterward,  Heinrich  Dorn.  He 
remained  for  three  years  under  Wieck’s  roof,  and 
the  companionship  of  the  child  Clara,  whose  mar- 
velous musical  powers  were  the  talk  of  Leipzig, 
was  a sweet  consolation  to  him  in  his  troubles  and 
his  toil,  though  ten  years  his  junior.  The  love, 
which  became  a part  of  his  life,  had  already  be- 
gun to  flutter  into  unconscious  being  in  his  feel- 
ing for  a shy  and  reserved  little  girl. 

Schumann  tells  us  that  the  year  1834  was  the 
most  important  one  of  his  life,  for  it  witnessed 
the  birth  of  the  “ Neue  Zeitschrift  fur  Musik,” 
a journal  which  was  to  embody  his  notions  of  ideal 
music,  and  to  be  the  organ  of  a clique  of  enthusi- 
asts in  lifting  the  art  out  of  Philistinism  and  com- 
monplace. The  war-cry  was  “ Eeform  in  art,” 
and  never-ending  battle  against  the  little  and  con- 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


22  5 


ventional  ideas  which  were  believed  then  to  be  the 
curse  of  German  music.  Among  the  earlier  contrib- 
utors were  Wieck,  Schumke,  Knorr,  Banck,  and 
Schumann  himself,  who  wrote  under  the  pseudo- 
nyms Florestan  and  Eusebius.  Between  his  new 
journal  and  composing,  Schumann  was  kept  busy, 
but  he  found  time  to  persuade  himself  that  he 
was  in  love  with  Fraulein  Ernestine  yon  Fricken, 
a beautiful  but  somewhat  frivolous  damsel,  who 
became  engaged  to  the  young  composer  and  editor. 
Two  years  cooled  off  this  passion,  and  a separation 
was  mutually  agreed  on.  Perhaps  Schumann  rec- 
ognized something,  in  the  lovely  child  who  was 
swiftly  blooming  into  maidenhood,  which  made 
his  own  inner  soul  protest  against  any  other  at- 
tachment. 

II. 

It  would  have  been  very  strange  indeed  if  two 
such  natures  as  Clara  Wieck  and  Robert  Schumann 
had  not  gravitated  toward  each  other  during  the 
almost  constant  intercourse  between  them  which 
took  place  between  1835  and  1838.  Clara,  born 
in  1820,  had  been  her  father’s  pupil  from  her 
tenderest  childhood,  but  the  development  of  her 
musical  gifts  was  not  forced  in  such  a way  as  to 
interfere  with  her  health  and  the  exuberance  of 
her  spirits.  The  exacting  teacher  was  also  a.  ten- 
der father  and  a man  of  ripe  judgment,  and  he 
knew  the  bitter  price  which  mere  mental  preco- 
city so  frequently  has  to  pay  for  its  existence. 


226  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


But  the  young  girl’s  gifts  were  so  extraordinary, 
and  withal  her  character  so  full  of  childish  sim- 
plicity and  gayety,  that  it  was  difficult  to  think  of 
her  as  of  the  average  child  phenomenon.  At  the 
age  of  nine  she  could  play  Mozart’s  concertos,  and 
Hummel’s  A minor  Concerto  for  the  orchestra, 
one  of  the  most  difficult  of  compositions.  A year 
later  she  began  to  compose,  and  improvised  with- 
out difficulty,  for  her  lessons  in  counterpoint  and 
harmony  had  kept  pace  with  her  studies  of  piano- 
forte technique.  Paganini  visited  Leipzig  at  this 
period,  and  was  so  astonished  at  the  little  Clara’s 
precocious  genius  that  he  insisted  on  her  presence 
at  all  his  concerts,  and  addressed  her  with  the 
deepest  respect  as  a fellow-artist.  She  first  ap- 
peared in  public  concert  at  the  age  of  eleven,  in 
Leipzig,  Weimar,  and  other  places,  playing  Pixis, 
Moscheles,  Mendelssohn,  Beethoven,  and  Chopin. 
The  latter  of  these  composers  was  then  almost 
unknown  in  Germany,  and  Clara  Wieck,  young  as 
she  was,  contributed  largely  to  making  him  popu- 
lar. A year  later  she  visited  Paris  in  company 
with  her  father,  and  heard  Chopin,  Liszt,  and 
Kalkbrenner,  who  on  their  part  were  delighted 
with  the  little  artist,  who,  beneath  the  delicacy 
and  timidity  of  the  child,  indicated  extraordinary 
powers.  Society  received  her  with  the  most  flat- 
tering approbation,  and  when  her  father  allowed 
her  to  appear  in  concert  her  playing  excited  the 
greatest  delight  and  surprise.  Her  improvisation 


TIIE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


227 


specially  displayed  a vigor  of  imagination,  a fine 
artistic  taste,  and  a well-defined  knowledge  which 
justly  called  out  the  most  enthusiastic  recogni- 
tion. 

When  Clara  Wieck  returned  home,  she  gave 
herself  up  to  work  with  fresh  ardor,  studying  com- 
position under  Heinrich  Dorn,  singing  under  the 
celebrated  Mieksch,  and  even  violin-playing,  so 
great  was  her  ambition  for  musical  accomplish- 
ments. From  1836  to  1838  she  made  an  extended 
musical  tour  through  Germany,  and  was  welcomed 
as  a musico-poetic  ideal  by  the  enthusiasts  who 
gathered  around  her.  The  poet  Grillparzer  spoke 
of  her  as  “the  innocent  child  who  first  unlocked 
the  casket  in  which  Beethoven  buried  his  mighty 
heart,”  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  Clara  Wieck, 
even  as  a young  girl,  did  more  than  any  other 
pianist  to  develop  a love  of  and  appreciation  for 
the  music  of  the  Titan  of  composers. 

Long  before  Schumann  distinctly  contemplated 
the  image  of  Clara  as  the  beloved  one,  the  half  of 
his  soul,  he  had  divined  her  genius,  and  expressed 
his  opinion  of  her  in  no  stinted  terms  of  praise. 
When  she  was  as  yet  only  thirteen,  he  had  written 
of  her  in  his  journal  : “As  I know  people  who, 
having  but  just  heard  Clara,  yet  rejoice  in  their 
anticipation  of  their  next  occasion  of  hearing  her, 
I ask,  What  sustains  this  continual  interest  in  her  ? 
Is  it  the  * wonder  child ? herself,  at  whose  stretches 
of  tenths  people  .shake  their  heads  while  they 


228  TIIE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

are  amazed  at  them,  or  the  most  difficult  difficul- 
ties which  she  sportively  flings  toward  the  public 
like  flower  garlands  ? Is  it  the  special  pride  of 
the  city  with  which  a people  regards  its  own  na. 
tives  ? Is  it  that  she  presents  to  us  the  most  in- 
teresting productions  of  recent  art  in  as  short  a 
time  as  possible  ? Is  it  that  the  masses  under- 
stand that  art  should  not  depend  on  the  caprices 
of  a few  enthusiasts,  who  would  direct  us  back  to 
a century  over  whose  corpse  the  wheels  of  time 
are  hastening  ? I know  not ; I only  feel  that 
here  we  are  subdued  by  genius,  which  men  still 
hold  in  respect.  In  short,  we  here  divine  the 
presence  of  a power  of  which  much  is  spoken, 
while  few  indeed  possess  it.  . . . Early  she  drew 
the  veil  of  Isis  aside.  Serenely  the  child  looks 
up  ; older  eyes,  perhaps,  would  have  been  blinded 
by  that  radiant  light.  ...  To  Clara  we  dare  no 
longer  apply  the  measuring  scale  of  age,  but  only 
that  of  fulfillment.  . . . Clara  Wieck  is  the  first 
German  artist.  . . . Pearls  do  not  float  on  the 
surface  ; they  must  be  sought  for  in  the  deep, 
often  with  danger.  But  Clara  is  an  intrepid 
diver.  ” 

The  child  whose  genius  he  admired  ripened 
into  a lovely  young  woman,  and  Schumann  be- 
came conscious  that  there  had  been  growing  in 
his  heart  for  years  a deep,  ardent  love.  He  had 
fancied  himself  in  love  more  than  once,  but  now 
he  felt  that  he  could  make  no  mistake  as  to  the 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


229 


genuineness  of  his  feelings.  In  183G  he  confessed 
his  feelings  to  the  object  of  his  affections,  and  dis- 
covered that  he  not  only  loved  but  was  loved,  for 
two  such  gifted  and  sympathetic  natures  could 
hardly  be  thrown  together  for  years  without  the 
growth  of  a mutual  tenderness.  The  marriage 
project  was  not  favored  by  Papa  Wieck,  much  as 
he  liked  the  young  composer  who  had  so  long 
been  his  pupil  and  a member  of  his  family  circle. 
The  father  of  Clara  looked  forward  to  a brilliant 
artistic  career  for  his  daughter,  perhaps  hoped  to 
marry  her  to  some  serene  highness,  and  Schu- 
mann’s prospects  were  as  yet  very  uncertain.  So 
he  took  Clara  on  a long  artistic  journey  through 
Germany,  with  a view  of  quenching  this  passion  by 
absence  and  those  public  adulations  which  he 
knew  Clara’s  genius  would  command.  But  no- 
thing shook  the  devotion  of  her  heart,  and  she  in- 
sisted on  playing  the  compositions  of  the  young 
composer  at  her  concerts,  as  well  as  those  of  Bee- 
thoven, Liszt,  and  Chopin,  the  latter  two  of  whom 
were  just  beginning  to  be  known  and  admired. 

Hoping  to  overcome  Papa  Wieck’s  opposition 
by  success,  Schumann  took  his  new  journal  to 
Vienna,  and  published  it  in  that  city,  carrying  on 
simultaneously  with  his  editorial  duties  active 
labors  in  composition.  The  attempt  to  better  his 
fortunes  in  Vienna,  however,  did  not  prove  very 
successful,  and  after  six  months  he  returned  again 
to  Leipzig.  Schumann’s  generous  sympathy  with 


230  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

other  great  musicians  was  signally  shown  in  his 
very  first  Vienna  experiences,  for  he  immediately 
made  a pious  pilgrimage  to  the  Waliring  cemetery 
to  offer  his  pious  gift  of  flowers  on  the  graves  of 
Beethoven  and  Schubert.  On  Beethoven’s  grave 
he  found  a steel  pen,  which  he  preserved  as  a sa- 
cred treasure,  and  used  afterward  in  writing  his 
own  finest  musical  fancies.  He  remembered,  too, 
that  the  brother  of  Schubert,  Ferdinand,  was  still 
living  in  a suburb  of  Vienna.  aHe  knew  me,” 
Schumann  says,  “from  my  admiration  for  his 
brother,  as  I had  publicly  expressed  it,  and  showed 
me  many  things.  At  last  he  let  me  look  at  the 
treasures  of  Franz  Schubert’s  compositions,  which 
he  still  possesses.  The  wealth  that  lay  heaped 
up  made  me  shudder  with  joy,  what  to  take  first, 
where,  to  cease.  Among  other  things,  he  also 
showed  me  the  scores  of  several  symphonies,  of 
which  many  had  never  been  heard,  while  others 
had  been  tried,  but  put  back,  on  the  score  of  their 
being  too  difficult  and  bombastic.”  One  of  these 
symphonies,  that  in  C major,  the  largest  and 
grandest  in  conception,  Schumann  chose  and  sent 
to  Leipzig,  where  it  was  soon  afterward  produced 
under  Mendelssohn’s  direction  at  one  of  the  Ge- 
wandhaus  concerts,  and  produced  an  immediate 
and  profound  sensation.  For  the  first  time  the 
world  witnessed,  in  a more  expanded  sphere, 
the  powers  of  a composer  the  very  beauties  of 
whose  songs  had  hitherto  been  fatal  to  His  general 


TIIE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


231 


success.  During  this  period  of  Schumann’s  life 
the  most  important  works  he  composed  were  the 
“ Etudes  Symphoniques,”  the  famous  “ Carnival  ” 
dedicated  to  Liszt,  the  “Scenes  of  Childhood,” 
the  “Fantasia”  dedicated  to  Liszt,  the  “No- 
velettes,” and  “ Kreisleriana.  ” As  he  writes  to 
Heinrich  Dorn  : “ Much  music  is  the  result  of 
the  contest  I am  passing  through  for  Clara’s  sake.” 
Schumann’s  compositions  had  been  introduced 
to  the  public  by  the  gifted  interpretation  of  Clara 
Wieck,  with  whom  it  was  a labor  of  love,  and  also 
by  Franz  Liszt,  then  rising  almost  on  the  top 
wave  of  his  dazzling  fame  as  a virtuoso.  Liszt 
was  a profound  admirer  of  the  less  fortunate 
Schumann,  and  did  everything  possible  to  make 
him  a favorite  with  the  public,  but  for  a long 
time  in  vain.  Liszt  writes  of  this  as  follows  : 
“Since  my  first  knowledge  of  his  compositions  I 
had  played  many  of  them  in  private  circles  at 
Milan  and  Vienna,  without  having  succeeded  in 
winning  the  approbation  of  my  hearers.  These 
works  were,  fortunately  for  them,  too  far  above 
the  then  trivial  level  of  taste  to  find  a home  in 
the  superficial  atmosphere  of  popular  applause. 
The  public  did  not  fancy  them,  and  few  play- 
ers understood  them.  Even  in  Leipzig,  where  I 
played  the  ‘ Carnival  ’ at  my  second  Gewandhaus 
concert,  I did  not  obtain  my  customary  applause. 
Musicians,  even  those  who  claimed  to  be  connois- 
seurs also,  carried  too  thick  a mask  over  their  ears 
16 


232  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

to  be  able  to  comprehend  that  charming  6 Carni- 
val/ harmoniously  framed  as  it  is,  and  ornamented 
with  such  rich  variety  of  artistic  fancy.  I did 
not  doubt,  however,  but  that  this  work  would 
eventually  win  its  place  in  general  appreciation 
beside  Beethoven’s  thirty-three  variations  on  a 
theme  by  Diabelli  (which  work  it  surpasses,  ac- 
cording to  my  opinion,  in  melody,  richness,  and 
inventiveness).”  Both  as  a composer  and  writer 
on  music,  Schumann  embodied  his  deep  detesta- 
tion of  the  Philistinism  and  commonplace  which 
stupefied  the  current  opinions  of  the  time,  and  he 
represented  in  Germany  the  same  battle  of  the  ro- 
mantic in  art  against  what  was  known  as  the 
classical  which  had  been  carried  on  so  fiercely  in 
Prance  by  Berlioz,  Liszt,  and  Chopin. 

III. 

The  year  1840  was  one  of  the  most  important 
in  Schumann’s  life.  In  February  he  was  created 
Doctor  of  Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Jena, 
and,  still  more  precious  boon  to  the  man’s  heart, 
Wieck’s  objections  to  the  marriage  with  Clara  had 
been  so  far  melted  away  that  he  consented,  though 
with  reluctance,  to  their  union.  The  marriage 
took  place  quietly  at  a little  church  in  Schonfeld, 
near  Leipzig.  This  year  was  one  of  the  most  fruit- 
ful of  Schumann’s  life.  His  happiness  burst  forth 
in  lyric  forms.  He  wrote  the  amazing  number  of 
one  hundred  and  thirty-eight  songs,  among  which 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


233 


the  more  famous  are  the  set  entitled  “Myrtles,” 
the  cyclus  of  song  from  Heine,  dedicated  to 
Pauline  Viardot,  Chamisso’s  “Woman’s  Love  and 
Life,”  and  Heine’s  “Poet  Love.”  Schumann  as 
a song- writer  must  be  called  indeed  the  musical 
reflex  of  Heine,  for  his  immortal  works  have 
the  same  passionate  play  of  pathos  and  melan- 
choly, the  sharp  - cut  epigrammatic  form,  the 
grand  swell  of  imagination,  impatient  of  the  lim- 
its set  by  artistic  taste,  which  characterize  the  poet 
themes.  Schumann  says  that  nearly  all  the  works 
composed  at  this  time  were  written  under  Clara’s 
inspiration  solely.  Blest  with  the  continual  com- 
panionship of  a woman  of  genius,  as  amiable  as 
she  was  gifted,  who  placed  herself  as  a gentle 
mediator  between  Schumann’s  intellectual  life 
and  the  outer  world,  he  composed  many  of  his 
finest  vocal  and  instrumental  compositions  dur- 
ing the  years  immediately  succeeding  his  mar- 
riage ; among  them  the  cantata  “ Paradise  and 
the  Peri,”  and  the  “Faust”  music.  His  own 
connection  with  public  life  was  restricted  to  his 
position  as  teacher  of  piano- forte  playing,  compo- 
sition, and  score  playing  at  the  Leipzig  Conserva- 
tory, while  the  gifted  wife  was  the  interpreter  of 
his  beautiful  piano-forte  works  as  an  executant. 
A more  perfect  fitness  and  companionship  in  union 
could  not  have  existed,  and  one  is  reminded  of  the 
married  life  of  the  poet  pair,  the  Brownings. 
After  four  years  of  happy  and  quiet  life,  in  which 


234  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

mental  activity  was  inspired  by  the  most  delight- 
ful of  domestic  surroundings,  an  artistic  tour  to 
St.  Petersburg  was  undertaken  by  Eobert  and 
Clara  Schumann.  Our  composer  did  not  go  with- 
out reluctance.  “Forgive  me,”  he  writes  to  a 
friend,  “if  I forbear  telling  you  of  my  unwilling- 
ness to  leave  my  quiet  home.”  He  seems  to  have 
had  a melancholy  premonition  that  his  days  of  un- 
troubled happiness  were  over.  A genial  reception 
awaited  them  at  the  Kussian  capital.  They  were 
frequently  invited  to  the  Winter  Palace  by  the 
emperor  and  empress,  and  the  artistic  circles  of 
the  city  were  very  enthusiastic  over  Mme.  Schu- 
mann’s piano-forte  playing.  Since  the  days  of 
John  Field,  dementi’s  great  pupil,  no  one  had 
raised  such  a furore  among  the  music-loving  Eus- 
sians.  Schumann’s  music,  which  it  was  his  wife’s 
dearest  privilege  to  interpret,  found  a much  warmer 
welcome  than  among  his  own  countrymen  at  that 
date.  In  the  Sclavonic  nature  there  is  a deep  cur- 
rent of  romance  and  mysticism,  which  met  with 
instinctive  sympathy  the  dreamy  and  fantastic 
thoughts  which  ran  riot  in  Schumann’s  works. 

On  returning  from  the  St.  Petersburg  tour, 
Schumann  gave  up  the  “Neue  Zeitschrift,”  the 
journal  which  he  had  made  such  a powerful  organ 
of  musical  revolution,  and  transferred  it  to  Os- 
wald Lorenz.  Schumann’s  literary  work  is  so 
deeply  intertwined  with  his  artistic  life  and  mis- 
sion that  it  is  difficult,  perhaps  impossible,  to 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


235 


separate  the  two.  He  had  achieved  a great  work 
— he  had  planted  in  the  German  mind  the  thought 
that  there  was  such  a thing  as  progress  and  growth  ; 
that  stagnation  was  death  ; and  that  genius  was 
for  ever  shaping  for  itself  new  forms  and  develop- 
ments. He  had  taught  that  no  art  is  an  end  to 
itself,  and  that,  unless  it  embodies  the  deep-seated 
longings  and  aspirations  of  men  ever  striving 
toward  a loftier  ideal,  it  becomes  barren  and  fruit- 
less— the  mere  survival  of  a truth  whose  need  had 
ceased.  He  was  the  apostle  of  the  musico-poetical 
art  in  Germany,  and,  both  as  author  and  com- 
poser, strove  with  might  and  main  to  educate  his 
countrymen  up  to  a clear  understanding  of  the 
ultimate  outcome  of  the  work  begun  by  Beethoven, 
Schubert,  and  Weber. 

Schumann  as  a critic  was  eminently  catholic 
and  comprehensive.  Deeply  appreciative  of  the 
old  lights  of  music,  he  received  with  enthusiasm 
all  the  fresh  additions  contributed  by  musical  gen- 
ius to  the  progress  of  his  age.  Eschewing  the 
cold,  objective,  technical  form  of  criticism,  his 
method  of  approaching  the  work  of  others  was 
eminently  subjective,  casting  on  them  the  illumi- 
nation which  one  man  of  genius  gives  to  another. 
The  cast  of  his  articles  was  somewhat  dramatic 
and  conversational,  and  the  characters  represented 
as  contributing  their  opinions  to  the  symposium 
of  discussion  were  modeled  on  actual  personages. 
He  himself  was  personified  under  the  dual  form 


236  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


of  Florestan  and  Eusebius,  the  “ two  souls  in  his 
breast  ” — the  former,  the  fiery  iconoclast,  impul- 
sive in  his  judgments  and  reckless  in  attacking 
prejudices  ; the  latter,  the  mild,  genial,  receptive 
dreamer.  Master  Raro,  who  stood  for  Wieck,  also 
typified  the  calm,  speculative  side  of  Schumann’s 
nature.  Chiara  represented  Clara  Wieck,  and  per- 
sonified the  feminine  side  of  art.  So  the  various 
personages  were  all  modeled  after  associates  of 
Schumann,  and,  aside  from  the  freshness  and  fasci- 
nation which  this  method  gave  his  style,  it  enabled 
him  to  approach  his  subjects  from  many  sides. 
The  name  of  the  imaginary  society  was  the  Davids- 
bund,  probably  from  King  David  and  his  cele- 
brated harp,  or  perhaps  in  virtue  of  David’s  vic- 
tories over  the  Philistines  of  his  day. 

As  an  illustration  of  Schumann’s  style  and 
method  of  treating  musical  subjects,  we  can  not 
do  better  than  give  his  article  on  Chopin’s  “ Don 
Juan  Fantasia”:  “Eusebius  entered  not  long 
ago.  You  know  his  pale  face  and  the  ironical 
smile  with  which  he  awakens  expectation.  I sat 
with  Florestan  at  the  piano-forte.  Florestan  is, 
as  you  know,  one  of  those  rare  musical  minds 
that  foresee,  as  it  were,  coming  novel  or  extraor- 
dinary things.  But  he  encountered  a surprise  to- 
day. With  the  words  ( Off  with  your  hats,  gen- 
tlemen ! a genius,’  Eusebius  laid  down  a piece  of 
music.  We  were  not  allowed  to  see  the  title- 
page.  I turned  over  the  music  vacantly  ; the 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


237 


veiled  enjoyment  of  music  which  one  does  not 
hear  has  something  magical  in  it.  And  besides 
this,  it  seems  that  every  composer  has  something 
different  in  the  note  forms.  Beethoven  looks  dif- 
ferently from  Mozart  on  paper ; the  difference  re- 
sembles that  between  Jean  Paul’s  and  Goethe’s 
prose.  But  here  it  seemed  as  if  eyes,  strange, 
were  glancing  up  to  me — flower  eyes,  basilisk  eyes, 
peacock’s  eyes,  maiden’s  eyes  ; in  many  places  it 
looked  yet  brighter.  I thought  I saw  Mozart’s 
f La  ci  darem  la  mano  ’ wound  through  a hun- 
dred chords.  Leporello  seemed  to  wink  at  me, 
and  Don  Juan  hurried  past  in  his  white  mantle. 
‘Now  play  it,’  said  Florestan.  Eusebius  con- 
sented, and  we,  in  the  recess  of  a window,  listened. 
Eusebius  played  as  though  he  were  inspired,  and 
led  forward  countless  forms  filled  with  the  live- 
liest, warmest  life  ; it  seemed  that  the  inspiration 
of  the  moment  gave  to  his  fingers  a power  beyond 
the  ordinary  measure  of  their  cunning.  It  is  true 
that  Florestan’s  whole  applause  was  expressed  in 
nothing  but  a happy  smile,  and  the  remark  that 
the  variations  might  have  been  written  by  Beetho- 
ven or  Franz  Schubert,  had  either  of  these  been 
a piano  virtuoso  ; but  how  surprised  he  was  when, 
turning  to  the  title-page,  he  read  ‘ La  ci  darem 
la  mano,  varie  pour  le  piano-forte,  par  Frederic 
Chopin,  Ouvre  2,’  and  with  what  astonishment 
we  both  cried  out,  e An  Opus  2 ! ’ How  our  faces 
glowed  as  we  wondered,  exclaiming,  6 That  is 


238  tiie  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

something  reasonable  once  more  ! Chopin  ? 1 

never  heard  of  the  name — who  can  he  be  ? In 
any  case,  a genius.  Is  not  that  Zerlina’s  smile, 
And  Leporello , etc.5  I could  not  describe  the 
scene.  Heated  with  wine,  Chopin,  and  our  own 
enthusiasm,  we  went  to  Master  Raro,  who  with  a 
smile,  and  displaying  but  little  curiosity  for  Cho- 
pin, said,  4 Bring  me  the  Chopin  ! I know  you 
and  your  enthusiasm.5  We  promised  to  bring  it 
the  next  day.  Eusebius  soon  bade  us  good-night. 
I remained  a short  time  with  Master  Raro.  Flo- 
restan,  who  had  been  for  some  time  without  a habi- 
tation, hurried  to  my  house  through  the  moonlit 
streets.  6 Chopin’s  variations,5  he  began,  as  if  in  a 
dream,  ‘ are  constantly  running  through  my  head  ; 
the  whole  is  so  dramatic  and  Chopin-like  ; the 
introduction  is  so  concentrated.  Do  you  remem- 
ber Leporello’ s springs  in  thirds  ? That  seems 
to  me  somewhat  unfitted  to  the  theme  ; but  the 
theme — why  did  he  write  that  in  A flat  ? The 
variations,  the  finale,  the  adagio,  these  are  indeed 
something  ; genius  burns  through  every  measure. 
Naturally,  dear  Julius,  Don  Juan , Zerlina , Lepo , 
rello , Massetto , are  the  dramatis  personce  ; Zen_ 
Una’s  answer  in  the  theme  has  a sufficiently 
enamored  character ; the  first  variation  expresses 
a kind  of  coquettish  coveteousness  : the  Spanish 
Grandee  flirts  amiably  with  the  peasant  girl  in 
it.  This  leads  of  itself  to  the  second,  which  is 
at  once  confidential,  disputative,  and  comic,  as 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


239 


though  two  lovers  were  chasing  each  other  and 
laughing  more  than  usual  about  it.  How  all  this 
is  changed  in  the  third  ! It  is  filled  with  fairy 
music  and  moonshine  ; Masetto  keeps  at  a dis- 
tance, swearing  audibly,  but  without  any  effect  on 
Don  Juctn . And  now  the  fourth — what  do  you 
think  of  it  ? Eusebius  played  it  altogether  cor- 
rectly. How  boldly,  how  wantonly,  it  springs  for- 
ward to  meet  the  man  ! though  the  adagio  (it 
seems  quite  natural  to  me  that  Chopin  repeats  the 
first  part)  is  in  B flat  minor,  as  it  should  be,  for 
in  its  commencement  it  presents  a beautiful  moral 
warning  to  Don  Juan . It  is  at  once  so  mischiev- 
ous and  beautiful  that  Leporello  listens  behind  the 
hedge,  laughing  and  jesting  that  oboes  and  clario- 
nettes  enchantingly  allure,  and  that  the  B flat  ma- 
jor in  full  bloom  correctly  designates  the  first 
kiss  of  love.  But  all  this  is  nothing  compared 
to  the  last  (have  you  any  more  wine,  Julius  ?). 
That  is  the  whole  of  Mozart’s  finale,  popping  cham- 
pagne corks,  ringing  glasses,  Leporello’ s voice  be- 
tween, the  grasping,  torturing  demons,  the  flee- 
ing Don  Juan — and  then  the  end,  that  beautifully 
soothes  and  closes  all.’  Florestan  concluded  by 
saying  that  he  had  never  experienced  feelings  simi- 
lar to  those  awakened  by  the  finale.  When  the 
evening  sunlight  of  a beautiful  day  creeps  up  to- 
ward the  highest  peaks,  and  when  the  last  beam 
vanishes,  there  comes  a moment  when  the  white  Al- 
pine giants  close  their  eyes.  We  feel  that  we  have 


240  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


witnessed  a heavenly  apparition.  ‘ And  now  awake 
to  new  dreams,  Julius,  and  sleep.5  c Dear  Flores- 
tan,5  I answered,  ‘ these  confidential  feelings,  are 
perhaps  praiseworthy,  although  somewhat  sub- 
jective ; but  as  deeply  as  yourself  I bend  before 
Chopin5s  spontaneous  genius,  his  lofty  aim,  his 
mastership  ; and  after  that  we  fell  asleep.  5 55  This 
article  was  the  first  journalistic  record  of  Chopin’s 
genius. 

IV. 

When  Schumann  gave  up  his  journal  in  1845 
he  moved  to  Dresden,  and  he  began  to  suffer  se- 
verely from  the  dreadful  disorder  to  which  he  fell 
a victim  twelve  years  later.  This  disease — an  ab- 
normal formation  of  bone  in  the  brain — afflicted 
him  with  excruciating  pains  in  the  head,  sleep- 
lessness, fear  of  death,  and  strange  auricular  de- 
lusions. A sojourn  at  Parma,  where  he  had  com- 
plete repose  and  a course  of  sea-bathing,  partially 
restored  his  health,  and  he  gave  himself  up  to 
musical  composition  again.  During  the  next 
three  years,  up  to  1849,  Schumann  wrote  some  of 
his  finest  works,  among  which  may  be  mentioned 
his  opera  “Genoviva,”  his  Second  symphony,  the 
cantata  “The  Rose’s  Pilgrimage,55  more  beautiful 
songs,  much  piano-forte  and  concerted  music,  and 
the  musical  illustrations  of  Byron’s  “Manfred,55 
which  latter  is  one  of  his  greatest  orchestral  works. 

During  the  years  1850  to  1854  Schumann  com- 
posed his  “ Rhenish  Symphony,”  the  overtures  to 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN.  241 

tlie  “ Bride  of  Messina”  and  “ Hermann  and  Do- 
rothea,” and  many  vocal  and  piano-forte  works. 
He  accepted  the  post  of  musical  director  at  Dus- 
seldorf  in  1850,  removed  to  that  city  with  his  wife 
and  children,  and,  on  arriving,  the  artistic  pair 
were  received  with  a civic  banquet.  The  position 
was  in  many  respects  agreeable,  but  the  responsi- 
bilities were  too  great  for  Schumann’s  declining 
health,  and  probably  hastened  his  death.  In  1853 
Robert  and  Clara  Schumann  made  a grand  artistic 
tour  through  Holland,  which  resembled  a tri- 
umphal procession,  so  great  was  the  musical  en- 
thusiasm called  out.  When  they  returned  Schu- 
mann’s malady  returned  with  double  force,  and 
on  February  27,  1854,  he  attempted  to  end  his 
misery  by  jumping  into  the  Rhine.  Madness  had 
seized  him  with  a clutch  which  was  never  to  be 
released,  except  at  short  intervals.  Every  possi- 
ble care  was  lavished  on  him  by  his  heartbroken 
and  devoted  wife,  and  the  assiduous  attention  of 
the  friends  who  reverenced  the  genius  now  for 
ever  quenched.  The  last  two  years  of  his  life 
were  spent  in  the  private  insane  asylum  at  En- 
denich,  near  Bonn,  where  he  died  July  20,  1856. 

Schumann  possessed  a wealth  of  musical  im- 
agination which,  if  possibly  equaled  in  a few  in- 
stances, is  nowhere  surpassed  in  the  records  of  his 
art.  For  him  music  possessed  all  the  attributes 
inherent  in  the  other  arts  — absolute  color  and 
flexibility  of  form.  That  he  attempted  to  express 


242  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  TIANISTS. 


these  phases  of  art  expression,  with  an  almost 
boundless  trust  in  their  applicability  to  tone  and 
sound,  not  unfrequently  makes  them  obscure  to 
the  last  degree,  but  it  also  gave  much  of  his  com- 
position a richness,  depth,  and  subtilty  of  sug- 
gestive power  which  place  them  in  a unique  niche, 
and  will  always  preserve  them  as  objects  of  the 
greatest  interest  to  the  musical  student.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  his  increasing  mental  malady  is 
evident  in  the  chaotic  character  of  some  of  his 
later  orchestral  compositions,  but,  in  those  works 
composed  during  his  best  period,  splendor  of 
imagination  goes  hand  in  hand  with  genuine  art 
treatment.  This  is  specially  noticeable  in  the 
songs  and  the  piano-forte  works.  Schumann  was 
essentially  lyrical  and  subjective,  though  his  in- 
tellectual breadth  and  culture  (almost  unrivaled 
among  his  musical  compeers)  always  kept  him 
from  narrowness  as  a composer.  He  led  the  van 
in  the  formation  of  that  pictorial  and  descriptive 
style  of  music  which  has  asserted  itself  in  German 
music,  but  his  essentially  lyric  personality  in  his 
attitude  to  the  outer  world  presented  the  external 
thoroughly  saturated  and  modified  by  his  own 
moods  and  feelings. 

In  his  piano-forte  works  we  find  his  most  com- 
plete and  satisfactory  development  as  the  artist 
composer.  Here  the  world,  with  its  myriad  im- 
pressions, its  facts,  its  purposes,  its  tendencies, 
met  the  man  and  commingled  in  a series  of  exqui- 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


213 


site  creations,  which  are  true  tone  pictures.  In 
this  domain  Beethoven  alone  was  worthy  to  be 
compared  with  him,  though  the  animus  and 
scheme  of  the  Beethoven  piano-forte  works  grew 
out  of  a totally  different  method. 

In  personal  appearance  Schumann  bore  the 
marks  of  the  man  of  genius.  As  he  reached  mid- 
dle age  we  are  told  of  him  that  his  figure  was  of 
middle  height,  inclined  to  stoutness,  that  his 
bearing  was  dignified,  his  movements  slow.  His 
features,  though  irregular,  produced  an  agreeable 
impression  ; his  forehead  was  broad  and  high,  the 
nose  heavy,  the  eyes  excessively  bright,  though 
generally  veiled  and  downcast,  the  mouth  deli- 
cately cut,  the  hair  thick  and  brown,  his  cheeks 
full  and  ruddy.  His  head  was  squarely  formed, 
of  an  intensely  powerful  character,  and  the  whole 
expression  of  his  face  sweet  and  genial.  Even 
when  young  he  was  distinguished  by  a kind  of 
absent-mindedness  that  prevented  him  from  tak- 
ing much  part  in  conversation.  Once,  it  is  said, 
he  entered  a lady’s  drawing-room  to  call,  played 
a few  chords  on  the  piano,  and  smilingly  left 
without  speaking  a word.  But,  among  intimate 
friends,  he  could  be  extraordinarily  fluent  and 
eloquent  in  discussing  an  interesting  topic.  He 
was  conscious  of  his  own  shyness,  and  once  wrote 
to  a friend  : “ I shall  be  very  glad  to  see  you  here. 
In  me,  however,  yon  must  not  expect  to  find 
much.  I scarcely  ever  speak  except  in  the  even- 


244  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


ing,  and  most  in  playing  the  piano.  ” His  wife 
was  the  crowning  blessing  of  his  life.  She  was 
not  only  his  consoler,  but  his  other  intellectual 
life,  for  she,  with  her  great  powers  as  a virtuoso, 
interpreted  his  music  to  the  world,  both  before 
and  after  his  death.  It  has  rarely  been  the  lot  of 
an  artist  to  see  his  most  intimate  feelings  and 
aspirations  embodied  to  the  world  by  the  genius 
of  the  mother  of  his  children.  Well  did  Ferdi- 
nand Hiller  write  of  this  artist  couple  : “ What 
love  beautified  his  life  ! A woman  stood  beside 
him,  crowned  with  the  starry  circlet  of  genius,  to 
whom  he  seemed  at  once  the  father  to  his  daugh- 
ter, the  master  to  the  scholar,  the  bridegroom  to 
the  bride,  the  saint  to  the  disciple.  ” 

Clara  Schumann  still  lives,  though  becoming 
fast  an  old  woman  in  years,  if  still  young  in  heart, 
and  still  able  to  win  the  admiration  of  the  musical 
world  by  her  splendid  playing.  Berlioz,  who  heard 
her  in  her  youth,  pronounced  her  the  greatest  vir- 
tuoso in  Germany,  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Heine  ; 
and  while  she  was  little  more  than  a child  she 
had  gained  the  heartiest  admiration  in  England, 
France,  and  Germany.  Henry  Chorley  heard  her 
at  Leipzig  in  1839,  and  speaks  of  “the  organ- 
playing on  the  piano  of  Mme.  Schumann  (better 
known  in  England  under  the  name  of  Clara 
Wieck),  who  commands  her  instrument  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  a sibyl  and  the  grasp  of  a man.” 
Since  Schumann’s  death,  Mme.  Schumann  has 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


245 


been  known  as  the  exponent  of  her  husband’s 
works,  which  she  has  performed  in  Germany  and 
England  with  an  insight,  a power  of  conception, 
and  a beauty  of  treatment  which  have  contributed 
much  to  the  recognition  of  his  remarkable  genius. 

v. 

The  name  of  Frederic  Francis  Chopin  is  so 
closely  linked  in  the  minds  of  musical  students 
with  that  of  Schumann  in  that  art  renaissance 
which  took  place  almost  simultaneously  in  France 
and  Germany,  when  so  many  daring  and  original 
minds  broke  loose  from  the  petrifactions  of  cus- 
tom and  tradition,  that  we  shall  not  venture  to 
separate  them  here.  Chopin  was  too  timid  and 
gentle  to  be  a bold  aggressor,  like  Berlioz,  Liszt, 
and  Schumann,  but  his  whole  nature  responded  to 
the  movement,  and  his  charming  and  most  origi- 
nal compositions,  which  glow  with  the  fire  of  a 
genius  perhaps  narrow  in  its  limits,  have  never 
been  surpassed  for  their  individuality  and  poetic 
beauty.  The  present  brief  sketch  of  Chopin  does 
not  propose  to  consider  his  life  biographically, 
full  of  pathos  and  romance  as  that  life  may  be.* 
Schumann,  in  his  “ Neue  Zeitschrift,”  sums  up  the 
characteristics  of  the  Polish  composer  admirably  : 
“ Genius  creates  kingdoms,  the  smaller  states  of 
which  are  again  divided  by  a higher  hand  among 
talents,  that  these  may  organize  details  which  the 

* See  article  Chopin,  in  ‘ Great  German  Composers.” 


246  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


former,  in  its  thousand-fold  activity,  would  be  un- 
able to  perfect.  As  Hummel,  for  example,  fol- 
lowed the  call  of  Mozart,  clothing  the  thoughts  of 
that  master  in  a flowing,  sparkling  robe,  so  Chopin 
followed  Beethoven.  Or,  to  speak  more  simply, 
as  Hummel  imitated  the  style  of  Mozart  in  detail, 
rendering  it  enjoyable  to  the  virtuoso  on  one  par- 
ticular instrument,  so  Chopin  led  the  spirit  of 
Beethoven  into  the  concert-room. 

“ Chopin  did  not  make  his  appearance  accom- 
panied by  an  orchestral  army,  as  great  genius  is 
accustomed  to  do  ; he  only  possessed  a small  co- 
hort, but  every  soul  belongs  to  him  to  the  last 
hero. 

“He  is  the  pupil  of  the  first  masters — Bee- 
thoven, Schubert,  Field.  The  first  formed  his 
mind  in  boldness,  the  second  his  heart  in  tender- 
ness, the  third  his  hand  to  its  flexibility.  Thus 
he  stood  well  provided  with  deep  knowledge  in 
his  art,  armed  with  courage  in  the  full  conscious- 
ness of  his  power,  when  in  the  year  1830  the  great 
voice  of  the  people  arose  in  the  West.  Hundreds 
of  youths  had  waited  for  the  moment ; but  Cho- 
pin was  the  first  on  the  summit  of  the  wall,  be- 
hind which  lay  a cowardly  renaissance,  a dwarfish 
Philistinism,  asleep.  Blows  were  dealt  right  and 
left,  and  the  Philistines  awoke  angrily,  crying  out, 
6 Look  at  the  impudent  one  ! ’ while  others  behind 
the  besieger  cried,  6 The  one  of  noble  courage.’ 

“Besides  this,  and  the  favorable  influence  of 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


247 


period  and  condition,  fate  rendered  Chopin  still 
more  individual  and  interesting  in  endowing  him 
with  an  original  pronounced  nationality  ; Polish, 
too,  and  because  this  nationality  wanders  in  mourn- 
ing  robes  in  the  thoughtful  artist,  it  deeply  at- 
tracts us.  It  was  well  for  him  that  neutral  Ger- 
many did  not  receive  him  too  warmly  at  first,  and 
that  his  genius  led  him  straight  to  one  of  the  great 
capitals  of  the  world,  where  he  could  freely  poet- 
ize and  grow  angry.  If  the  powerful  autocrat 
of  the  North  knew  what  a dangerous  enemy 
threatens  him  in  Chopin’s  works  in  the  simple 
melodies  of  his  mazurkas,  he  would  forbid  music. 
Chopin’s  works  are  cannons  buried  in  flowers.  . . . 
He  is  the  boldest,  proudest  poet  soul  of  to-day.” 

But  Schumann  could  have  said  something  more 
than  this,  and  added  that  Chopin  was  a musician 
of  exceptional  attainments,  a virtuoso  of  the  very 
highest  order,  a writer  for  the  piano  pure  and 
simple  preeminent  beyond  example,  and  a master 
of  a unique  and  perfect  style. 

Chopin  was  born  of  mixed  French  and  Polish 
parentage,  February  8,  1810,  at  Zelazowa-Wola, 
near  Warsaw.  He  was  educated  at  the  Warsaw 
Conservatory,  and  his  eminent  genius  for  the 
piano  shone  at  this  time  most  unmistakably.  He 
found  in  the  piano-forte  an  exclusive  organ  for 
the  expression  of  his  thoughts.  In  the  presence 
of  this  confidential  companion  he  forgot  his  shy- 
ness and  poured  forth  his  whole  soul.  A passion- 
17 


248  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


ate  lover  of  his  native  country,  and  burning  with 
those  aspirations  for  freedom  which  have  made 
Poland  since  its  first  partition  a volcano  ever 
ready  to  break  forth,  the  folk-themes  of  Poland 
are  at  the  root  of  all  of  Chopin’s  compositions,  and 
in  the  waltzes  and  mazurkas  bearing  his  name  we 
find  a passionate  glow  and  richness  of  color  which 
make  them  musical  poems  of  the  highest  order. 

Chopin’s  art  position,  both  as  a pianist  and 
composer,  was  a unique  one.  He  was  accus- 
tomed to  say  that  the  breath  of  the  concert-room 
stifled  him,  whereas  Liszt,  his  intimate  friend  and 
fellow-artist,  delighted  in  it  as  a war-horse  delights 
in  the  tumult  of  battle.  Chopin  always  shrank 
from  the  display  of  his  powers  as  a mere  exec- 
utant. To  exhibit  his  talents  to  the  public  was 
an  offense  to  him,  and  he  only  cared  for  his  re- 
markable technical  skill  as  a means  of  placing  his 
fanciful  original  poems  in  tone  rightly  before  the 
public.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that 
his  intimate  friends,  Liszt,  Meyerbeer,  Nourrit, 
Delacroix,  Heine,  Mme.  George  Sand,  Countess 
D’Agoult,  and  others,  could  persuade  him  to  ap- 
pear before  large  mixed  audiences.  His  genius 
only  shone  unconstrained  as  a player  in  the  soci- 
ety of  a few  chosen  intimate  friends,  with  whom 
he  felt  a perfect  sympathy,  artistic,  social,  and 
intellectual.  Exquisite,  fastidious,  and  refined, 
Chopin  was  less  an  aristocrat  from  political  causes, 
or  even  by  virtue  of  social  caste,  than  from  the 


THE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


240 


fact  that  his  art  nature,  which  was  delicate,  femi- 
nine, and  sensitive,  shrank  from  all  companions 
except  those  molded  of  the  finest  clay.  We  find 
this  sense  of  exclusiveness  and  isolation  in  all  of 
the  Chopin  music,  as  in  some  quaint,  fantastic, 
ideal  world,  whose  master  would  draw  us  up  to  his 
sphere,  but  never  descend  to  ours. 

In  the  treatment  of  the  technical  means  of  the 
piano-forte,  he  entirely  wanders  from  the  old 
methods.  Moscheles,  a great  pianist  in  an  age  of 
great  players,  gave  it  up  in  despair,  and  confessed 
that  he  could  not  play  Chopin’s  music.  The  lat- 
ter teaches  the  fingers  to  serve  his  own  artistic 
uses,  without  regard  to  the  notions  of  the  schools. 
It  is  said  that  M.  Kalkbrenner  advised  Chopin  to 
attend  his  classes  at  the  Paris  Conservatoire,  that 
the  latter  might  learn  the  proper  fingering.  Cho- 
pin answered  his  officious  adviser  by  placing  one 
of  his  own  “Etudes  ” before  him,  and  asking  him 
to  play  it.  The  failure  of  the  pompous  professor 
was  ludicrous,  for  the  old-established  technique 
utterly  failed  to  do  it  justice.  Chopin’s  end  as  a 
player  was  to  faithfully  interpret  the  poetry  of  his 
own  composition.  His  genius  as  a composer 
taught  him  to  make  innovations  in  piano-forte 
effects.  He  was  thus  not  only  a great  inventor 
as  a composer,  but  as  regards  the  technique  of  the 
piano-forte.  He  not  only  told  new  things  well 
worth  hearing  which  the  world  would  not  forget, 
but  devised  new  ways  of  saying  them,  and  it  mat- 


250  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

tered  but  little  to  him  whether  his  more  forcible 
and  passionate  dialectic  offended  what  Schumann 
calls  musical  Philistinism  or  no.  Chopin  formed 
a school  of  his  own  which  was  purely  the  outcome 
of  his  genius,  though  as  Schumann,  in  the  ex- 
tract previously  quoted,  justly  says  : u He  was 
molded  by  the  deep  poetic  spirit  of  Beethoven, 
with  whom  form  only  had  value  as  it  expressed 
truthfully  and  beautifully  symmetry  of  concep- 
tion.” 

The  forms  of  Chopin’s  compositions  grew  out 
of  the  keyboard  of  the  piano,  and  their  genre  is 
so  peculiar  that  it  is  nearly  impracticable  to  trans- 
pose them  for  any  other  instrument.  Some  of 
the  noted  contemporary  violinists  have  attempted 
to  transpose  a few  of  the  Nocturnes  and  Etudes, 
but  without  success.  Both  Schumann  and  Liszt 
succeeded  in  adapting  Paganini’s  most  complex 
and  difficult  violin  works  for  the  piano-forte,  but 
the  compositions  of  Chopin  are  so  essentially  born 
to  and  of  the  one  instrument  that  they  can  not 
be  well  suited  to  any  other.  The  cast  of  the 
melody,  the  matchless  beauty  and  swing  of  the 
rhythm,  his  ingenious  treatment  of  harmony,  and 
the  chromatic  changes  and  climaxes  through 
which  the  motives  are  developed,  make  up  a new 
chapter  in  the  history  of  the  piano-forte. 

Liszt,  in  his  life  of  Chopin,  says  of  him : “ His 
character  was  indeed  not  easily  understood.  A 
thousand  subtile  shades,  mingling,  crossing,  con- 


TIIE  SCHUMANNS  AND  CHOPIN. 


251 


tradicting,  and  disguising  each  other,  rendered  it 
almost  undecipherable  at  first  view  ; kind,  court- 
eous, affable,  and  almost  of  joyous  manners,  he 
would  not  suffer  the  secret  convulsions  which 
agitated  him  to  be  ever  suspected.  His  works, 
concertos,  waltzes,  sonatas,  ballades,  polonaises, 
mazurkas,  nocturnes,  scherzi,  all  reflect  a similar 
enigma  in  a most  poetical  and  romantic  form.” 

Chopin’s  moral  nature  was  not  cast  in  an  he- 
roic mold,  and  he  lacked  the  robust  intellectual 
marrow  which  is  essential  to  the  highest  forms  of 
genius  in  art  as  well  as  in  literature  and  affairs, 
though  it  is  not  safe  to  believe  that  he  was,  as 
painted  by  George  Sand  and  Liszt,  a feeble  youth, 
continually  living  at  death’s  door  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  moonshine  and  sentimentality.  But 
there  can  be  no  question  that  the  whole  bent  of 
Chopin’s  temperament  and  genius  was  melan- 
choly, romantic,  and  poetic,  and  that  frequently 
he  gives  us  mere  musical  moods  and  reveries,  in- 
stead of  well-defined  and  well-developed  ideas. 
His  music  perhaps  loses  nothing,  for,  if  it  misses 
something  of  the  clear,  inspiring,  vigorous  quality 
of  other  great  composers,  it  has  a subtile,  dreamy, 
suggestive  beauty  all  its  own. 

The  personal  life  of  Chopin  was  singularly  in- 
teresting. His  long  and  intimate  connection  with 
George  Sand  ; the  circumstances  under  which  it 
was  formed  ; the  blissful  idyl  of  the  lovers  in  the 
isle  of  Majorca ; the  awakening  from  the  dream, 


252  TEE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

and  the  separation — these  and  other  striking  cir- 
cumstances growing  out  of  a close  association 
with  what  was  best  in  Parisian  art  and  life,  invest 
the  career  of  the  man,  aside  from  his  art,  with 
more  than  common  charm  to  the  mind  of  the 
reader.  Having  touched  on  these  phases  of  Cho- 
pin’s life  at  some  length  in  a previous  volume  of 
this  series,  we  must  reluctantly  pass  them  by. 

In  closing  this  imperfect  review  of  the  Polish 
composer,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  the  present 
generation  has  more  than  sustained  the  judgment 
of  his  own  as  to  the  unique  and  wonderful  beauty 
of  his  compositions.  Hardly  any  concert  pro- 
gramme is  considered  complete  without  one  or 
more  numbers  selected  from  his  works ; and 
though  there  are  but  few  pianists,  even  in  a day 
when  Chopin  as  a stylist  has  been  a study,  who  can 
do  his  subtile  and  wonderful  fancies  justice,  there 
is  no  composer  for  the  piano-forte  who  so  fasci- 
nates the  musical  mind. 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 

Tlialberg  one  of  the  Greatest  of  Executants. — Rather  a Man  of  Re- 
markable Talents  than  of  Genius. — Moscheles’s  Description 
of  him. — The  Illegitimate  Son  of  an  Austrian  Prince. — Early 
Introduction  to  Musical  Society  in  London  and  Vienna. — Be- 
ginning of  his  Career  as  a Virtuoso. — The  Brilliancy  of  his 
Career. — Is  appointed  Court  Pianist  to  the  Emperor  of  Aus- 
tria.— His  Marriage. — Visits  to  America. — Thalberg’s  Artistic 
Idiosyncrasy. — Robert  Schumann  on  his  Playing. — His  Ap- 
pearance and  Manner. — Characterization  by  George  William 
Curtis. — Thalberg’s  Style  and  Worth  as  an  Artist. — His  Piano- 
forte Method,  and  Place  as  a Composer  for  the  Piano. — Gott- 
sclialk’s  Birth  and  Early  Years. — He  is  sent  to  Paris  for  In- 
struction.— Succossful  Debut  and  Public  Concerts  in  Paris  and 
Tour  through  the  French  Cities. — Friendship  with  Berlioz. — 
Concert  Tour  to  Spain. — Romantic  Experiences. — Berlioz  on 
Gottschalk. — Reception  of  Gottschalk  in  America. — Criticism 
of  his  Style. — Remarkable  Success  of  his  Concerts. — His 
Visit  to  the  West  Indies,  Mexico,  and  Central  America.— 
Protracted  Absence. — Gottschalk  on  Life  in  the  Tropics. — : 
Return  to  the  United  States.— Three  Brilliant  Musical  Years. 
— Departure  for  South  America. — Triumphant  Procession 
through  the  Spanish- American  Cities. — Death  at  Rio  Janeiro, 
— Notes  on  Gottschalk  as  Man  and  Artist. 

I. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  great 
piano-forte  virtuosos  was  unquestionably  Sigis- 
mond  Thalbergg  an  artist  who  made  a profound 
sensation  in  two  hemisphere s,  and  filled  a large 
space  in  the  musical  world  for  more  than  forty- 


254  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


five  years.  Originally  a disciple  of  the  Viennese 
school  of  piano-forte  playing,  a pupil  of  Mosche- 
les,  and  a rigid  believer  in  making  the  instru- 
ment which  was  the  medium  of  his  talent  suffi- 
cient unto  itself,  wholly  indifferent  to  the  daring 
and  boundless  ambition  which  made  his  great  ri- 
val, Franz  Liszt,  pile  Pelion  on  Ossa  in  his  grasp 
after  new  effects,  Thalberg  developed  virtuoso- 
ism  to  its  extreme  degree  by  a mechanical  dex- 
terity which  was  perhaps  unrivaled.  But  the 
fingers  can  not  express  more  than  rests  in  the 
heart  and  brain  to  give  to  their  skill,  and  Thal- 
berg, with  all  his  immense  talent,  seems  to  have 
lacked  the  divine  spark  of  genius.  It  goes  with- 
out saying,  to  those  who  are  familiar  with  the 
current  cant  of  criticism,  that  the  word  genius 
is  often  applied  in  a very  loose  and  misleading 
manner.  But,  in  all  estimates  of  art  and  artists, 
where  there  are  two  clearly  defined  factors,  imag- 
ination or  formative  power  and  technical  dex- 
terity, it  would  seem  that  there  should  not  be 
any  error  in  deciding  on  the  propriety  of  such 
a word  as  a measure  of  the  quality  of  an  artist’s 
gifts.  The  lack  of  the  creative  impulse  could 
not  be  mistaken  in  Thalberg’s  work,  whether  as 
player  or  composer.  But  the  ability  to  execute 
ail  that  came  within  the  scope  of  his  sympathies 
or  intelligence  was  so  prodigious  that  the  world 
was  easily  dazzled  into  forgetting  his  deficiencies 
in  the  loftier  regions  of  art.  Trifles  are  often 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSOHALK. 


255 


very  significant.  What,  for  example,  could  more 
vividly  portray  an  artist’s  tendencies  than  the 
description  of  Thalberg  by  Moscheles,  who  knew 
him  more  thoroughly  than  any  other  contempo- 
rary, and  felt  a keener  sympathy  with  his  genre 
as  an  artist  than  with  the  more  striking  origi- 
nality of  Chopin  and  Liszt.  Moscheles  writes  : 

“ I find  his  introduction  of  harp  effects  on  the 
piano  quite  original.  His  theme,  which  lies  in 
the  middle  part,  is  brought  out  clearly  in  relief 
with  an  accompaniment  of  complicated  arpeggios 
which  reminds  me  of  a harp.  The  audience  is 
amazed.  He  himself  sits  immovably  calm  ; his 
whole  bearing  as  he  sits  at  the  piano  is  soldier- 
like ; his  lips  are  tightly  compressed  and  his  coat 
buttoned  closely.  He  told  me  he  acquired  this 
attitude  of  self-control  by  smoking  a Turkish  pipe 
while  practicing  his  piano-forte  exercises  : the 
length  of  the  tube  was  so  calculated  as  to  keep 
him  erect  and  motionless.”  This  exact  discipline 
and  mechanism  were  not  merely  matters  of  tech- 
nical culture  ; they  were  the  logical  outcome  of  the 
man  and  surely  a part  of  himself.  But  within 
his  limits,  fixed  as  these  were,  Thalberg  was  so 
great  that  he  must  be  conceded  to  be  one  of  the 
most  striking  and  brilliant  figures  of  an  age  fe- 
cund in  fine  artists. 

Thalberg  was  born  at  Geneva,  January  7,  1812, 
and  was  the  natural  son  of  Prince  Dietrichstein, 
an  Austrian  nobleman,  temporarily  resident  in 


256  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

that  city.  His  talent  for  music,  inherited  from 
both  sides,  for  his  mother  was  an  artist  and  his 
father  an  amateur  of  no  inconsiderable  skill,  be- 
came obvious  at  a very  tender  age,  following  the 
Jaw  which  so  generally  holds  in  music  that  su- 
perior gifts  display  themselves  at  an  early  period. 
These  indications  of  nature  were  not  ignored,  for 
the  boy  was  placed  under  instruction  before  he 
had  completed  his  sixth  year.  It  is  a little  singu- 
lar that  his  first  teacher  was  not  a pianist,  though 
a very  superior  musician.  Mittag  was  one  of  the 
first  bassoonists  of  his  times,  and,  in  addition  to  his 
technical  skill,  a thoroughly  accomplished  man  in 
the  science  of  his  profession.  Thalberg  was  ac- 
customed to  attribute  the  wonderfully  rich  and 
mellow  tone  which  characterized  his  playing  to 
the  influence  and  training  of  Mittag.  From  this 
instructor  the  future  great  pianist  passed  to  the 
charge  of  the  distinguished  Hummel,  who  was 
not  only  one  of  the  greatest  virtuosos  of  the  age, 
but  ranked  by  his  admirers  as  only  a little  less 
than  Beethoven  himself  in  his  genius  for  piano- 
forte compositions,  though  succeeding  generations 
have  discredited  his  former  fame  by  estimating 
him  merely  a “dull  classic.”  Contemporaneously 
with  his  pupilage  under  Hummel,  he  studied  the 
theory  of  music  with  Simon  Sechter,  an  eminent 
contrapuntist.  Even  at  this  early  age,  for  Thal- 
berg must  have  been  less  than  ten  years  old,  he 
astonished  all  by  the  great  precision  of  his  finger- 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 


257 


in g and  the  instinctive  ease  with  which  he  mas- 
tered the  most  difficult  mechanism  of  the  art  of 
playing.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  young  Thalberg 
went  to  London  in  the  household  of  his  father, 
who  had  been  appointed  imperial  ambassador  to 
England,  and  the  youth  was  then  placed  under 
the  instruction  of  the  great  pianist  Moscheles. 
The  latter  speaks  of  Thalberg  as  the  most  distin- 
guished of  his  pupils,  and  as  being,  even  at  that 
age,  already  an  artist  of  distinction  and  mark.  It 
was  a source  of  much  pleasure  to  Moscheles  that 
his  brilliant  scholar,  who  played  much  at  private 
soirees,  was  not  only  recognized  by  the  dilletante 
public  generally,  but  by  such  veteran  artists  as 
dementi  and  Cramer.  Moscheles,  in  his  diary, 
speaks  of  the  wonderful  brilliancy  of  a grand  fan- 
cy dress  ball  given  by  Thalberg’s  princely  father 
at  Covent  Garden  Theatre.  Pit,  stalls,  and  pro- 
scenium were  formed  into  one  grand  room,  in 
which  the  crowd  promenaded.  The  costumes 
were  of  every  conceivable  variety,  and  many  of 
the  most  gorgeous  description.  The  spectators, 
in  full  dress,  sat  in  the  boxes  ; on  the  stage  was  a 
court  box,  occupied  by  the  royal  family ; and 
bands  played  in  rooms  adjoining  for  small  parties 
of  dancers.  “You  will  have  some  idea,”  wrote 
Mme.  Moscheles,  in  a letter,  “of  the  crowd  at  this 
ball,  when  I tell  you  that  we  left  the  ballroom 
at  two  o’clock  and  did  not  get  to  the  prince’s  car- 
riage till  four.”  One  of  the  interesting  features 


258  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

of  this  ball  was  that  the  boy  Thalberg  played  in 
one  of  the  smaller  rooms  before  the  most  distin- 
guished people  present,  including  the  royal  fam- 
ily, all  crowding  in  to  hear  the  youthful  virtuoso, 
whose  tacit  recognition  by  his  father  had  al- 
ready opened  to  him  the  most  brilliant  drawing- 
rooms in  London. 

Thalberg  did  not  immediately  begin  to  per- 
form in  public,  but,  on  returning  to  Vienna  in 
1827,  played  continually  at  private  soirees,  where 
he  had  the  advantage  of  being  heard  and  criti- 
cised by  the  foremost  amateurs  and  musicians  of 
the  Austrian  capital.  It  had  some  time  since 
become  obvious  to  the  initiated  that  another  great 
player  was  about  to  be  launched  on  his  career. 
The  following  year  the  young  artist  tried  his 
hand  at  composition,  for  he  published  variations 
on  themes  from  Weber’s  “ Euryanthe,”  which 
were  well  received.  Thalberg  in  after-years 
spoke  of  all  his  youthful  productions  with  dis- 
dain, but  his  early  works  displayed  not  a little 
of  the  brilliant  style  of  treatment  which  subse- 
quently gave  his  fantasias  a special  place  among 
compositions  for  the  piano-forte. 

It  was  not  till  1830  that  young  Thalberg  fairly 
began  his  career  as  a traveling  player.  The  cities 
of  Germany  received  him  with  the  most  eclatant 
admiration,  and  his  feats  of  skill  as  a performer 
were  trumpeted  by  the  newspapers  and  musical 
journals  as  something  unprecedented  in  the  art  of 


Til  ALB  3 RG  AND  GOTTSCIIALK. 


259 


pianism.  From  Germany  Thalberg  proceeded  to 
France  and  England,  and  his  audiences  were  no 
less  pronounced  in  their  recognition.  Liszt  had 
already  been  before  him  in  Paris,  and  Chopin  ar- 
rived about  the  same  time.  Kalkbrenner,  Ferdi- 
nand Hiller,  and  Field  were  playing,  but  the 
splendid,  calm  beauty  of  Thalberg’s  style  in- 
stantly captivated  the  public,  and  elicited  the  most 
extravagant  and  delighted  applause  not  only  from 
the  public,  but  from  enlightened  connoisseurs. 

To  follow  the  course  of  Thalberg’s  piano- 
forte achievements  in  his  musical  travels  through 
Europe  would  be  merely  to  repeat  a record  of 
uninterrupted  successes.  He  disarmed  envy  and 
criticism  everywhere,  and  even  those  disposed  to 
withhold  a frank  and  generous  acknowledgment 
of  his  greatness  did  not  dare  to  question  powers 
of  execution  which  seemed  without  a technical 
flaw.  During  his  travels  Thalberg  composed  a 
concerto  for  piano  and  orchestra,  to  play  at  his 
concerts.  But  this  species  of  composition  was  so 
obviously  unsuited  to  his  abilities  that  he  quickly 
forsook  it,  and  thenceforward  devoted  his  efforts 
exclusively  to  the  instrument  of  which  he  was 
such  an  eminent  master.  A more  extensive  am- 
bition had  been  rebuked  in  more  ways  than  one. 
He  composed  two  operas,  “ Florinda  ” and  “ Chris- 
tine,” and  of  course  easily  yielded  to  the  entreaties 
of  his  admirers  to  have  them  produced.  But  it 
was  clearly  evident  that  his  musical  idiosyncrasy, 


260  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


though  magnificent  of  its  kind,  was  limited  in 
range,  and  after  the  failure  of  his  operas  and 
attempts  at  orchestral  writing  Thalberg  calmly 
accepted  the  situation. 

In  the  year  1834  Thalberg  was  appointed 
pianist  of  the  Imperial  Chamber  to  the  court  of 
Austria,  and  accompanied  the  Emperor  Ferdi- 
nand to  Toplitz,  where  a convocation  of  the  Eu- 
ropean sovereigns  took  place.  His  performances 
were  warmly  received  by  the  assembled  monarchs, 
and  he  was  overwhelmed  with  presents  and  con- 
gratulations. Thalberg’s  way  throughout  the 
whole  of  his  life  was  strewn  with  roses,  and, 
though  his  career  did  not  present  the  same  ro- 
mantic incidents  which  make  the  life  of  Franz 
Liszt  so  picturesque,  it  was  attended  by  the  same 
lavish  favors  of  fortune.  From  one  patron  he 
received  the  gift  of  a fine  estate,  from  another  a 
magnificent  city  mansion  in  Vienna,  and  testimo- 
nials, like  snuff-boxes  set  with  diamonds,  jeweled 
court-swords,  superbly  set  portraits  of  his  royal 
and  imperial  patrons,  and  costly  jewelry,  poured 
in  on  him  continually.  Imperial  orders  from 
Austria  and  Russia  were  bestowed  on  him,  and 
hardly  any  mark  of  favor  was  denied  him  by  that 
good  fortune  which  had  been  auspicious  to  him 
from  his  very  birth.  In  1845,  while  still  in  the 
service  of  the  Austrian  emperor,  though  he  did 
not  intermit  his  musical  tours  through  the  princi- 
pal European  cities,  Thalberg  married  the  charm- 


TIIALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 


261 


ing  widow,  whom  he  had  known  and  admired  be- 
fore her  marriage,  the  daughter  of  the  great 
singer  Lablache,  Mme.  Bouchot,  whose  first  hus- 
band had  been  the  distinguished  French  painter 
of  that  name.  The  marriage  was  a happy  one, 
though  scandal,  which  loves  to  busy  itself  about 
the  affairs  of  musical  celebrities,  did  not  fail  to 
associate  Thalberg’s  name  with  several  of  the 
most  beautiful  women  of  his  time.  Mile.  Thal- 
berg,  a daughter  of  this  marriage,  made  her  debut 
with  considerable  success  in  London,  in  1874. 

Thalberg’s  first  visit  to  America  was  in  1853, 
and  he  came  again  in  1857,  to  more  than  repeat 
the  enthusiastic  reception  with  which  he  was 
greeted  by  music-loving  Americans.  Musical  cul- 
ture at  that  time  had  not  attained  the  refinement 
and  knowledge  which  now  make  an  audience  in 
one  of  our  greater  cities  as  fastidious  and  intelli- 
gent as  can  be  found  anywhere  in  the  world.  Bn  t 
Thalberg’s  wonderful  playing,  though  lacking  in 
the  fire,  glow,  and  impetuosity  which  would  natu- 
rally most  arouse  the  less  cultivated  musical  sense, 
created  a furore , which  has  never  been  matched 
since,  among  those  who  specially  prided  them- 
selves on  being  good  judges.  He  extended  both 
tours  to  Cuba,  Mexico,  and  South  America,  and  it 
is  said  took  away  with  him  larger  gains  than  he 
had  ever  made  during  the  same  period  in  Europe. 

During  the  latter  years  of  Thalberg’s  life  he 
spent  much  of  his  time  in  elegant  ease  at  his  fine 


262  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

country  estate  near  Naples,  only  giving  concerts 
at  some  few  of  the  largest  European  capitals,  like 
London  and  Paris.  He  became  an  enthusiastic 
wine-grower,  and  wine  from  his  estate  gained 
a medal  at  the  Exposition  TJniverselle  of  1867. 
Many  of  his  best  piano-forte  compositions  date 
from  the  period  when  he  had  given  up  the  active 
pursuit  of  virtuosoism.  His  works  comprise  a con- 
certo, three  sonatas,  many  nocturnes,  rondos,  and 
etudes,  about  thirty  fantasias,  two  operas,  and  an 
instruction  series,  which  latter  has  been  adopted 
by  many  of  the  best  teachers,  and  has  been  the 
means  of  forming  a number  of  able  pupils.  This 
fine  artist  died  at  his  Neapolitan  estate,  April  27, 
1871. 

II. 

Thalberg  had  but  little  sympathy  with  the 
dreamy  romanticism  which  found  such  splendid 
exponents,  while  he  was  yet  in  his  early  youth, 
in  Schumann,  Chopin,  and  Liszt.  Imagination 
in  its  higher  functions  he  seemed  to  lack.  A cer- 
tain opulence  and  picturesqueness  of  fancy  united 
in  his  artistic  being  with  an  intelligence  both 
lucid  and  penetrating,  and  a sense  of  form  and 
symmetry  almost  Greek  in  its  fastidiousness.. 
The  sweet,  vague,  passionate  aspirations,  the  sen- 
sibility that  quivers  with  every  breath  of  move- 
ment from  the  external  world,  he  could  not  under- 
stand. Placidity,  grace,  and  repose  he  had  in 
perfection.  Yet  he  was  very  highly  appreciated 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCIIALK. 


263 


by  those  who  had  little  in  common  with  his  ar- 
tistic nature.  As,  for  example,  Robert  Schumann 
writes  of  Thalberg  and  his  playing,  on  the  occa- 
sion of  a charity  concert,  given  in  Leipzig  in  1841  : 
“In  his  passing  flight  the  master’s  pinions  rested 
here  awhile,  and,  as  from  the  angel’s  pinions  in 
one  of  Rucker’s  poems,  rubies  and  other  precious 
stones  fell  from  them  and  into  indigent  hands,  as 
the  master  ordained  it.  It  is  difficult  to  say  any- 
thing new  of  one  who  has  been  so  praise  beshow- 
ered  as  he  has.  But  every  earnest  virtuoso  is 
glad  to  hear  one  thing  said  at  any  time — that  he 
has  progressed  in  his  art  since  he  last  delighted 
us.  This  best  of  all  praise  we  are  conscientiously 
able  to  bestow  on  Thalberg ; for,  during  the  last 
two  years  that  we  have  not  heard  him,  he  has  made 
astonishing  additions  to  his  acquirements,  and,  if 
possible,  moves  with  greater  boldness,  grace,  and 
freedom  than  ever.  His  playing  seemed  to  have 
the  same  effect  on  every  one,  and  the  delight  that 
he  probably  feels  in  it  himself  was  shared  by  all. 
True  virtuosity  gives  us  something  more  than 
mere  flexibility  and  execution  : a man  may  mirror 
his  own  nature  in  it,  and  in  Thalberg’s  playing  it 
becomes  clear  to  all  that  he  is  one  of  the  favored 
ones  of  fortune,  one  accustomed  to  wealth  and 
elegance.  Accompanied  by  happiness,  bestowing 
pleasure,  he  commenced  his  career ; under  such 
circumstances  he  has  so  far  pursued  it,  and  so  he 
will  probably  continue  it.  The  whole  of  yester- 
18 


264  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


day  evening  and  every  number  that  he  played 
gave  us  a proof  of  this.  The  public  did  not  seem 
to  be  there  to  judge,  but  only  to  enjoy  ; they 
were  as  certain  of  enjoyment  as  the  master  was  of 
his  art.” 

Thalberg  in  his  appearance  had  none  of  the 
traditional  wild  picturesqueness  of  style  and  man- 
ner which  so  many  distinguished  artists,  even 
'Liszt  himself,  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  car- 
ry perhaps  to  the  degree  of  affectation.  Smoothly 
shaven,  quiet,  eminently  respectable-looking,  his 
handsome,  somewhat  Jewish-looking  face  com- 
posed in  an  expression  of  unostentatious  good 
breeding,  he  was  wont  to  seat  himself  at  the 
piano  with  all  the  simplicity  of  one  doing  any 
commonplace  thing.  He  had  the  air  of  one  who 
respected  himself,  his  art,  and  the  public.  His 
performance  was  in  an  exquisitely  artistic  sense 
that  of  the  gentleman,  perfect,  polished,  and 
elaborately  wrought.  The  distinguished  Ameri- 
can litterateur,  Mr.  George  William  Curtis,  who 
heard  him  in  New  York  in  1857,  thus  wrote  of 
him  : “ He  is  a proper  artist  in  this,  that  he  com- 
prehends the  character  of  his  instrument.  He 
neither  treats  it  as  a violoncello  nor  a full  or- 
chestra. Those  who  in  private  have  enjoyed  the 
pleasure  of  hearing — or,  to  use  a more  accurate 
epithet,  of  seeing — Strepitoso,  that  friend  of  man- 
kind, play  the  piano,  will  understand  what  we 
mean  when  we  speak  of  treating  the  piano  as  if  it 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 


265 


were  an  orchestra.  Strepitoso  storms  and  slams 
along  the  keyboard  until  the  tortured  instrument 
gives  up  its  musical  soul  in  despair  and  breaks 
its  heart  of  melody  by  cracking  all  its  strings.  . . . 
Every  instrument  has  its  limitations,  but  Stre- 
pitoso will  tolerate  no  such  theory.  He  extracts 
music  from  his  piano,  not  as  if  he  were  sifting 
the  sands  for  gold,  but  as  if  he  were  raking 
oysters.  . . . Now,  Thalberg’s  manner  is  different 
from  Strepitoso’s.  He  plays  the  piano  ; that  is 
the  phrase  which  describes  his  performance.  He 
plays  it  quietly  and  suavely.  You  could  sit 
upon  the  lawn  on  a June  night  and  hear  with  de- 
light the  sounds  that  trickled  through  the  moon- 
light from  the  piano  of  this  master.  They  would 
not  melt  your  soul  in  you  ; they  would  not  touch 
those  longings  that,  like  rays  of  starry  light,  re- 
spond to  the  rays  of  the  stars  ; they  would  not 
storm  your  heart  with  the  yearning  passion  of 
their  strains,  but  you  would  confess  it  was  a good 
world  as  you  listened,  and  be  glad  you  lived  in  it 
— you  would  be  glad  of  your  home  and  all  that 
made  it  homelike  ; the  moonlight  as  you  listened 
would  melt  and  change,  and  your  smiling  eyes 
would  seem  to  glitter  in  cheerful  sunlight  as 
Thalberg  ended.” 

Thalberg’s  style  was,  perhaps,  the  best  possible 
illustration  of  the  legitimate  effects  of  the  piano- 
forte carried  to  the  highest  by  as  perfect  a tech- 
nique as  could  possibly  be  attained  by  human  skills 


266  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


That  he  lacked  poetic  fire  and  passion,  that  the 
sense  of  artistic  restraint  and  a refined  fastidious- 
ness chilled  and  fettered  him,  is  doubtlessly  true. 
Whether  the  absence  of  the  imaginative  warmth 
and  vigor  which  suffuse  a work  of  art  with  the 
glow  of  something  that  can  not  be  fully  expressed, 
and  kindle  the  thoughts  of  the  hearer  to  take 
hitherto  unknown  flights,  is  fully  compensated 
for  by  that  repose  and  symmetry  of  style  which 
know  exactly  what  it  wishes  to  express,  and,  be- 
ing perfect  master  of  the  means  of  expression, 
puts  forth  an  exact  measure  of  effort  and  then 
stops  as  if  shut  down  by  an  iron  wall — this  is 
an  open  question,  and  must  be  answered  accord- 
ing to  one’s  art  theories.  The  exquisite  mod- 
eling of  a Benvenuto  Cellini  vase,  wrought  with 
patient  elaboration  into  a thing  of  unsurpass- 
able beauty,  does  not  invoke  as  high  a sense  of 
pleasure  as  an  heroic  statue  or  noble  painting  by 
some  great  master,  but  of  its  kind  the  pleasure  is 
just  as  complete.  Apart  from  Thalberg’s  power 
as  a player,  however,  there  was  something  cap- 
tivating in  the  quality  of  his  talent,  which, 
though  not  creative,  was  gifted  with  the  power 
of  seizing  the  very  essence  of  the  music  to  be  in- 
terpreted. A striking  example  of  this  is  shown 
in  the  fantasias  he  composed  on  the  different 
operas,  a form  of  writing  which  reached  its  per- 
fection in  him.  His  own  contribution  is  simply 
a most  delightful  setting  of  the  melodies  of  his 


TIIALBERG  AND  GOTTSCIIALK. 


2G7 


subject,  and  the  whole  is  steeped  in  the  very  at- 
mosphere and  feeling  of  the  original,  as  if  the 
master  himself  had  done  the  work. 

A good  example  is  the  fantasia  on  Mozart’s 
“Don  Giovanni.”  The  little,  wild,  unformed 
melodies  rustle  in  quick  gusts  along  the  keys  as 
if  wavering  shadows,  yet  with  all  the  familiar 
rhythm  and  family  likeness,  filling  the  mind  of 
the  hearer  with  the  atmosphere  and  necessity  of 
what  is  to  follow,  while  gradually  the  full  harmo- 
nies unfold  themselves.  The  introduction  of  the 
minuet  is  one  of  the  most  striking  portions.  The 
scene  of  the  minuet  in  the  opera  is  a vision  of  rural 
loveliness  and  repose,  whispering  of  flowers,  fields, 
and  happy  flying  hours.  All  this  becomes  poet- 
ized, and  the  music  seems  to  imply  rich  reaches  of 
odorous  garden  and  moonlight,  whispering  foliage, 
and  nightingales  mad  with  the  delight  of  their 
own  singing,  and  a palace  on  the  lawn  sounding 
with  riotous  mirth.  The  player-composer  weaves 
the  glamour  of  such  a dream,  and  the  hearer 
finds  himself  strolling  in  imagination  through  the 
moonlit  garden,  listening  to  the  birds,  the  waters, 
and  the  rustling  leaves,  while  the  stately  beat  of 
the  minuet  comes  throbbing  through  it  all,  call  - 
ing up  the  vision  of  gayly  dressed  cavaliers  and 
beautiful  ladies  fantastically  moving  to  the  tune. 
Such  poetic  sentiment  as  this  of  the  purely  pic- 
turesque sort  was  in  large  measure  Thalberg’s 
possession,  but  he  could  never  understand  that 


268  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


turbulent  ground-swell  of  passion  which  music 
can  also  powerfully  express,  and  by  which  the  soul 
is  lifted  up  to  the  heights  of  ecstasy  or  plunged 
in  depths  of  melancholy.  Music  as  a vehicle  for 
such  meanings  was  mere  Egyptian  hieroglyphic, 
utterly  beyond  his  limitation,  absolute  bathos  and 
absurdity. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  any  player  ever  pos- 
sessed a more  wonderfully  trained  mechanism  ; 
the  smallest  details  were  polished  and  finished 
with  the  utmost  care,  the  scales  marvels  of  even- 
ness, the  shakes  rivaling  the  trill  of  a canary 
bird.  His  arpeggios  at  times  rolled  like  the 
waves  of  the  sea,  and  at  others  resembled  folds 
of  transparent  lace  floating  airily  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  wearer.  The  octaves  were  wonder- 
fully accurate,  and  the  chords  appeared  to  be 
struck  by  steel  mallets  instead  of  fingers.  He 
was  called  the  Bayard  of  pianists,  “le  Chevalier 
sans  peur  et  sans  reproche.”  His  tone  was  noble, 
yet  mellow  and  delicate,  and  the  gradations  be- 
tween his  forte  and  piano  were  traced  most  ex- 
quisitely. In  a word,  technical  execution  could 
go  no  further.  It  is  said  that  he  never  played  a 
piece  in  public  till  he  had  absolutely  made  it  the 
property  of  his  fingers.  He  was  the  first  to  di- 
vide the  melody  between  the  two  hands,  making 
the  right  hand  perform  a brilliant  figure  in  the 
higher  register,  while  the  left  hand  exhibited  a 
full  and  rich  bass  part,  supplementing  it  with  an 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK.  269 

accompaniment  in  chords.  It  was  this  charac- 
teristic  which  made  his  fantasias  so  unique  and 
interesting,  in  spite  of  their  lack  of  orginality  of 
motive,  as  compositions.  Almost  all  writers  for 
the  piano  have  since  adopted  this  device,  even 
the  great  Mendelssohn  using  it  in  some  of  his 
concertos  and  “ Songs  without  Words  ” ; and  in 
many  cases  it  has  been  transformed  into  a mere 
trick  of  arrant  musical  charlatanism,  designed 
to  cover  up  with  a sham  glitter  the  utter  ab- 
sence of  thought  and  motive.  No  better  sug- 
gestion of  the  dominant  characteristic  of  Thal- 
berg  as  a pianist  can  be  found  than  a critical 
word  of  his  friend  Moscheles  : “The  proper 
ground  for  finger  gymnastics  is  to  be  found  in 
Thalberg’s  latest  compositions  ; for  mind  [deist], 
give  me  Schumann.” 

III. 

During  Thalberg’s  first  visit  to  America  he 
had  an  active  and  dangerous  rival  in  the  young 
and  brilliant  pianist,  Louis  Moreau  Gottschalk, 
who  was  as  fresh  to  New  York  audiences  as 
Thalberg  himself,  though  the  latter  had  the  ad- 
vantage over  his  young  competitor  in  a fame 
which  was  almost  world -wide.  Of  American 
pianists  Louis  Gottschalk  stands  confessedly  at 
the  head  by  virtue  of  remarkable  native  gifts, 
which,  had  they  been  assisted  by  greater  industry 
and  ambition,  might  easily  have  won  him  a very 


370  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

eminent  rank  in  Europe  as  well  as  in  his  own 
country.  An  easy,  pleasure-loving,  tropical  na- 
ture, flexible,  facile,  and  disposed  to  sacrifice 
the  future  to  the  present,  was  the  only  obstacle 
to  the  attainment  to  a place  level  with  the  fore- 
most artists  of  his  age. 

Edward  Gottschalk,  who  came  to  America  in 
his  young  manhood  and  settled  in  New  Orleans, 
and  his  wife,  a French  Creole  lady,  had  five 
children,  of  whom  the  future  pianist  was  the 
eldest,  born  in  1829.  His  feeling  for  music 
manifested  itself  when  he  was  three  years  old  by 
his  ability  to  play  a melody  on  the  piano  which 
he  had  heard.  Instantly  he  was  strong  enough, 
he  was  placed  under  the  instruction  of  a good 
teacher,  and  no  pains  were  spared  to  develop  his 
precocious  talent.  At  the  age  of  six  he  had  made 
such  progress  on  the  piano  that  he  was  also  in- 
structed on  the  violin,  and  soon  was  able  to  play 
pieces  of  more  than  ordinary  difficulty  with  taste 
and  expression.  We  are  told  that  the  lad  gave  a 
benefit  concert  at  the  age  of  eight  to  assist  an 
unfortunate  violin-player,  with  considerable  suc- 
cess, and  was  soon  in  great  request  at  evening 
parties  as  a child  phenomenon.  The  propriety  of 
sending  the  little  Louis  to  Paris  had  long  been 
discussed,  and  it  was  finally  accomplished  in 
1842. 

On  reaching  Paris  he  was  first  put  under  the 
teaching  of  Charles  Halle,  but,  as  the  latter  mas- 


TFIALBERG  AND  GOTTSCIIALK. 


271 


ter  was  a little  careless,  he  was  replaced  by  M. 
Camilb  Stamaty,  who  had  the  reputation  of  be- 
ing the  ablest  professor  in  the  city.  The  fol- 
lowing year  he  began  the  study  of  harmony  and 
counterpoint  with  M.  Maledan,  and  the  rapid 
progress  he  evinced  in  his  studies  was  of  a kind 
to  justify  his  parents  in  their  wish  to  devote  him 
to  the  career  of  a pianist. 

Young  Louis  Gottschalk  was  much  petted  in 
the  aristocratic  salons  of  Paris,  to  which  he  had 
admission  through  his  aunts,  the  Comtesse  de  La- 
grange and  the  Comtesse  de  Bourjally.  His  re- 
markable musical  gifts,  and  more  especially  his 
talent  for  improvisation,  excited  curiosity  and 
admiration,  even  in  a city  where  the  love  of 
musical  novelty  had  been  sated  by  a continual 
supply  of  art  prodigies.  Young  as  he  was,  he 
wrote  at  this  time  not  a few  charming  composi- 
tions, which  were  in  after-years  occasional  fea- 
tures of  his  concerts.  His  delicate  constitution 
succumbed  under  hard  work,  and  for  a while  a 
severe  attack  of  typhoid  fever  interrupted  his 
studies.  On  his  recovery,  our  young  artist  spent 
a few  months  in  the  Ardennes.  On  returning  to 
Paris,  he  became  the  pupil  of  Hector  Berlioz, -who 
felt  a deep  interest  in  the  young  American,  as  an 
art  prodigy  from  a land  of  savages  in  harmony, 
and  devoted  himself  so  assiduously  to  the  study 
that  he  declined  an  invitation  from  the  Spanish 
queen  to  become  a guest  of  the  court  at  Madrid. 


272  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

An  amusing  incident  occurred  in  a pedestrian 
trip  which  he  made  to  the  Vosges  in  1846.  He 
had  forgotten  his  passport,  and,  on  arriving  at  a 
small  town,  was  arrested  by  a gendarme  and 
taken  before  the  maire.  The  latter  official  was 
reading  a newspaper  containing  a notice  of  his 
last  concert,  and  through  this  means  he  assured 
the  worthy  functionary  of  his  identity,  and  was 
cordially  welcomed  to  the  hospitality  of  the  offi- 
cial residence. 

His  friend  Berlioz,  who  was  ever  on  the  alert 
to  help  the  American  pupil  who  promised  to  do 
him  so  much  credit,  arranged  a series  of  concerts 
for  him  at  the  Italian  Opera  in  the  winter  of  1846- 
’47,  and  these  proved  brilliantly  successful,  not 
merely  in  filling  the  young  artist’s  purse,  but  in 
augmenting  his  fast-growing  reputation.  Steady 
labor  in  study  and  concert-giving,  many  of  his 
public  performances  being  for  charity,  made  two 
years  pass  swiftly  by.  A musical  tour  through 
France  in  1849  was  highly  successful,  and  the 
young  American  returned  to  Paris,  loaded  down 
with  gifts,  and  rich  in  the  sense  of  having  justly 
earned  the  congratulations  which  showered  on 
him  from  all  his  friends.  A second  invitation 
now  came  from  Spain,  and  Louis  Gottschalk  on 
arriving  at  Madrid  was  made  a guest  at  the  royal 
palace.  From  the  king  he  received  two  orders, 
the  diamond  cross  of  Isabella  la  Catholique  and 
that  of  Leon  d’Holstein,  and  from  the  Duke  de 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCIIALK. 


273 


Montpensier  he  received  a sword  of  honor.  We 
are  told  that  at  one  of  the  private  court  concerts 
Gottschalk  played  a duet  with  Don  Carlos,  the 
father  of  the  recent  pretender  to  the  Spanish 
throne. 

Among  the  romantic  incidents  narrated  of  this 
visit  of  Gottschalk  to  Madrid,  one  is  too  charac- 
teristic to  be  overlooked,  as  showing  the  tender, 
generous  nature  of  the  artist.  An  imaginative 
Spanish  girl,  whose  fancy  had  been  excited  by 
the  public  enthusiasm  about  Gottschalk,  but  was 
too  ill  to  attend  his  concerts,  had  a passionate  de- 
sire to  hear  him  play,  and  pined  away  in  the  fret- 
fulness of  ungratified  desire.  Her  family  were 
not  able  to  pay  Gottschalk  for  the  trouble  of  giv- 
such  an  exclusive  concert,  but,  to  satisfy  the  sick 
girl,  made  the  circumstances  known  to  the  artist. 
Gottschalk  did  not  hesitate  a moment,  but  ordered 
his  piano  to  be  conveyed  to  the  humble  abode  of 
the  patient.  Here  by  her  bedside  he  played  for 
hours  to  the  enraptured  girl,  and  the  strain  of 
emotion  was  so  great  that  her  life  ebbed  away 
before  he  had  finished  the  final  chords.  Gott- 
schalk remained  in  Spain  for  two  years,  and  it 
was  not  till  the  autumn  of  1852  that  he  returned 
to  Paris,  to  give  a series  of  farewell  concerts  before 
returning  again  to  America,  where  his  father  and 
brothers  wrere  anxiously  awaiting  him. 


274  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


IV. 

Before  Gottschalk’s  departure  from  Paris, 
Hector  Berlioz  thus  wrote  of  his  protege , for  whom 
we  may  fancy  he  had  a strong  bias  of  liking  ; and 
no  judge  is  so  generous  in  estimation  as  one  ar- 
tist of  another,  unless  the  critic  has  personal 
cause  of  dislike,  and  then  no  judge  is  so  sweepingly 
unjust:  “ Gottschalk  is  one  of  the  very  small 
number  who  possess  all  the  different  elements  of 
a consummate  pianist,  all  the  faculties  which  sur- 
round him  with  an  irresistible  prestige,  and  give 
him  a sovereign  power.  He  is  an  accomplished 
musician  ; he  knows  just  how  far  fancy  may  be 
indulged  in  expression.  He  knows  the  limits  be- 
yond which  any  freedom  taken  with  the  rhythm 
produces  only  confusion  and  disorder,  and  upon 
these  limits  he  never  encroaches.  There  is  an  ex- 
quisite grace  in  his  manner  of  phrasing  sweet 
melodies  and  throwing  off  light  touches  from  the 
higher  keys.  The  boldness,  brilliancy,  and  origi- 
nality of  his  play  at  once  dazzle  and  astonish, 
and  the  infantile  naivete  of  his  smiling  caprices, 
the  charming  simplicity  with  which  he  renders 
simple  things,  seem  to  belong  to  another  individ- 
uality, distinct  from  that  which  marks  his  thun- 
dering energy.  Thus  the  success  of  M.  Gott- 
schalk before  an  audience  of  musical  cultivation 
is  immense.” 

But  even  this  enthusiastic  praise  was  pale  in 
comparison  with  the  eulogiums  of  some  of  the 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 


275 


New  York  journals,  after  the  first  concert  of  Gott- 
schalk  at  Niblo’s  Garden  Theatre.  One  newspa- 
per, which  arrogated  special  strength  and  good 
judgment  in  its  critical  departments,  intimated 
that  after  such  a revelation  it  was  useless  any 
longer  to  speak  of  Beethoven  ! Whether  Beetho- 
ven as  a player  or  Beethoven  as  a composer  was 
meant  wras  left  unknown.  Gottschalk  at  his  ear- 
lier concerts  played  many  of  his  own  composi- 
tions, made  to  order  for  the  display  of  his  virtuo- 
soism,  and  their  brilliant,  showy  style  was  very 
well  calculated  to  arouse  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
general  public.  Perhaps  the  most  sound  and 
thoughtful  opinion  of  Gottschalk  expressed  dur- 
ing the  first  enthusiasm  created  by  his  playing 
was  that  of  a well-known  musical  journal  pub- 
lished in  Boston  : 

“Well,  at  the  concert,  which,  by  the  way,  did 
not  half  fill  the  Boston  Music  Hall,  owing  partly, 
we  believe,  to  the  one-dollar  price,  and  partly,  we 
hope , to  distrust  of  an  artist  who  plays  wholly  his 
own  compositions,  our  expectation  was  confirmed. 
There  was,  indeed,  most  brilliant  execution  ; we 
have  heard  none  more  brilliant,  but  are  not  yet 
prepared  to  say  that  JaelTs  was  less  so.  Gott- 
schalk’s  touch  is  the  most  clear  and  crisp  and 
beautiful  that  we  have  ever  known.  His  play  is 
free  and  bold  and  sure,  and  graceful  in  the  ex- 
treme ; his  runs  pure  and  liquid ; his  figures 
always  clean  and  perfectly  defined ; his  command 


276  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

of  rapid  octave  passages  prodigious  ; and  so  we 
might  go  through  with  all  the  technical  points  of 
masterly  execution.  It  ivas  great  execution.  But 
what  is  execution,  without  some  thought  and 
meaning  in  the  combinations  to  be  executed  ? . . . 
Skillful,  graceful,  brilliant,  wonderful,  we  own  his 
playing  was.  But  players  less  wonderful  have 
given  us  far  deeper  satisfaction.  We  have  seen  a 
criticism  upon  that  concert,  in  which  it  was  re- 
gretted that  his  music  was  too  fine  for  common 
apprehension,  ‘ too  much  addressed  to  the  reason- 
ing faculties/  etc.  To  us  the  want  was,  that  it 
did  not  address  the  reason  ; that  it  seemed  empty 
of  ideas,  of  inspiration  ; that  it  spake  little  to  the 
mind  or  heart,  excited  neither  meditation  nor 
emotion,  but  simply  dazzled  by  the  display  of 
difficult  feats  gracefully  and  easily  achieved.  But 
of  what  use  were  all  these  difficulties?  (‘Diffi- 
cult ! I wish  it  was  impossible / said  Dr.  Johnson.) 
Why  all  that  rapid  tossing  of  handfuls  of  chords 
from  the  middle  to  the  highest  octaves,  lifting 
the  hand  with  such  conscious  appeal  to  our  eyes  ? 
To  what  end  all  those  rapid  octave  passages  ? 
since  in  the  intervals  of  easy  execution,  in  the 
seemingly  quiet  impromptu  passages,  the  music 
grew  so  monotonous  and  commonplace  : the  same 
little  figure  repeated  and  repeated,  after  listless 
pauses,  in  a way  which  conveyed  no  meaning,  no 
sense  of  musical  progress,  but  only  the  appearance 
of  fastidiously  critical  scale-practicing.” 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCIIALK. 


277 


In  the  series  of  concerts  given  by  Gottschalk 
throughout  the  United  States,  the  public  gener- 
ally showed  great  enthusiasm  and  admiration, 
and  the  young  pianist  sustained  himself  very  suc- 
cessfully against  the  memories  of  Jaell,  Henri 
Herz,  and  Leopold  de  Meyer,  as  well  as  the  im- 
mediate rivalry  of  Thalberg,  who  appealed  more 
potently  to  a select  few.  The  hold  the  American 
pianist  had  secured  on  his  public  did  not  lessen 
during  the  five  years  of  concert-giving  which 
succeeded.  No  player  ever  displayed  his  skill 
before  American  audiences  who  had  in  so  large 
degree  that  peculiar  quality  of  geniality  in  his 
style  which  so  endears  him  to  the  public.  This 
characteristic  is  something  apart  from  genius  or 
technical  skill,  and  is  peculiarly  an  emanation 
from  the  personality  of  the  man. 

In  the  spring  of  1837  Gottschalk  found  him- 
self in  Havana,  whither  he  had  gone  to  make  the 
beginning  of  a musical  tour  through  the  West  In- 
dies. His  first  concert  was  given  at  the  Tacon 
Theatre,  which  Mr.  Maretzek,  who  was  giving 
operatic  representations  then  in  Havana,  yielded 
to  him  for  the  occasion.  The  Cubans  gave  the 
pianist  a tropical  warmth  of  welcome,  and  Gott- 
schalk‘s  letters  from  the  old  Spanish  city  are  full 
of  admiration  for  the  climate,  the  life,  and  the 
people,  with  whom  there  was  something  strongly 
sympathetic  in  his  own  nature.  The  artist  had 
not  designed  to  protract  his  musical  wanderings 


278  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

in  the  beautiful  island  of  the  Antilles  for  any 
considerable  period,  but  his  success  was  great, 
and  the  new  experiences  admirably  suited  his 
dreaming,  sensuous,  pleasure-loving  temperament. 
Everywhere  the  advent  of  Gottschalk  at  a town 
was  made  the  occasion  of  a festival,  and  life 
seemed  to  be  one  continued  gala-day  with  him. 

v. 

In  the  early  months  of  1860  the  young  pianist, 
Arthur  Napoleon,  joined  Gottschalk  at  Havana, 
and  the  two  gave  concerts  throughout  the  West 
Indies,  which  were  highly  successful.  The  early 
summer  had  been  designed  for  a tour  through  Cen- 
tral America  and  Venezuela,  but  a severe  attack  of 
illness  prostrated  Gottschalk,  and  he  was  not  able 
to  sail  before  August  for  his  new  field  of  musical 
conquest.  Our  artist  did  not  return  to  New 
York  till  1862,  after  an  absence  of  five  years, 
though  his  original  plan  had  only  contemplated 
a tour  of  two  years.  It  must  not  be  supposed 
that  Gottschalk  devoted  his  time  continually  to 
concert  performances  and  composition,  though 
he  by  no  means  neglected  the  requirements  of 
musical  labor.  As  he  himself  confesses,  the  balmy 
climate,  the  glorious  landscapes,  the  languid  dolce 
far  niente , which  tended  to  enervate  all  that 
came  under  their  magic  spell,  wrought  on  his 
susceptible  temperament  with  peculiar  effect.  A 
quotation  from  an  article  written  by  Gottschalk, 


TIIALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 


279 


and  published  in  the  “Atlantic  Monthly/’ enti- 
tled “ Notes  of  a Pianist/’  will  furnish  the  reader 
a graphic  idea  of  the  influence  of  tropical  life  on 
such  an  imaginative  and  voluptuous  character, 
passionately  fond  of  nature  and  outdoor  life  : 
“ Thus,  in  succession,  I have  visited  all  the  An- 
tilles— Spanish,  French,  English,  Dutch,  Swed- 
ish, and  Danish ; the  Guianas,  and  the  coasts 
of  Para.  * At  times,  having  become  the  idol  of 
some  obscure  pueblo , whose  untutored  ears  I had 
charmed  with  its  own  simple  ballads,  I would 
pitch  my  tent  for  five,  six,  eight  months,  defer- 
ring my  departure  from  day  to  day,  until  finally 
I began  seriously  to  entertain  the  idea  of  remain- 
ing there  for  evermore.  Abandoning  myself  to 
such  influences,  I lived  without  care,  as  the  bird 
sings,  as  the  flower  expands,  as  the  brook  flows, 
oblivious  of  the  past,  reckless  of  the  future,  and 
sowed  both  my  heart  and  my  purse  with  the 
ardor  of  a husbandman  who  hopes  to  reap  a hun- 
dred ears  for  every  grain  he  confides  to  the  earth. 
But,  alas  ! the  fields  where  is  garnered  the  har- 
vest of  expended  doubloons,  and  where  vernal 
loves  bloom  anew,  are  yet  to  be  discovered ; and 
the  result  of  my  prodigality  was  that,  one  fine 
morning,  I found  myself  a bankrupt  in  heart, 
with  my  purse  at  ebb-tide.  Suddenly  disgusted 
with  the  world  and  myself,  weary,  discouraged, 
mistrusting  men  (ay,  and  women  too),  I fled  to  a 

desert  on  the  extinct  volcano  of  M , where, 

19 


280  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


for  several  months,  I lived  the  life  of  a cenobite, 
with  no  companion  but  a poor  lunatic  whom  I 
had  met  on  a small  island,  and  who  had  attached 
himself  to  me.  He  followed  me  everywhere,  and 
loved  me  with  that  absurd  and  touching  constan- 
cy of  which  dogs  and  madmen  alone  are  capable. 
My  friend,  whose  insanity  was  of  a mild  and 
harmless  character,  fancied  himself  the  greatest 
genius  in  the  world.  He  was,  moreover,  under 
the  impression  that  he  suffered  from  a gigantic, 
monstrous  tooth.  Of  the  two  idiosyncrasies,  the 
latter  alone  made  his  lunacy  discernible,  too  many 
individuals  being  affected  with  the  other  symp- 
tom to  render  it  an  anomalous  feature  of  the  hu- 
man mind.  My  friend  was  in  the  habit  of  pro- 
testing that  this  enormous  tooth  increased  peri- 
odically, and  threatened  to  encroach  upon  his 
entire  jaw.  Tormented,  at  the  same  time,  with 
the  desire  of  regenerating  humanity,  he  divided 
his  leisure  between  the  study  of  dentistry,  to 
which  he  applied  himself  in  order  to  impede  the 
progress  of  his  hypothetical  tyrant,  and  a volumi- 
nous correspondence  which  he  kept  up  with  the 
Pope,  his  brother,  and  the  Emperor  of  the  French, 
his  cousin.  In  the  latter  occupation  he  pleaded 
the  interests  of  humanity,  styled  himself  ‘the 
Prince  of  Thought/  and  exalted  me  to  the  digni- 
ty of  his  illustrious  friend  and  benefactor.  In  the 
midst  of  the  wreck  of  his  intellect,  one  thing  still 
survived — his  love  of  music.  He  played  the  vio- 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCIIALK. 


2S1 


lin  ; and,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  although  in- 
sane, he  could  not  understand  the  so-called  music 
of  the  future. 

“ My  hut,  perched  on  the  verge  of  the  crater, 
at  the  very  summit  of  the  mountain,  commanded 
a view  of  all  the  surrounding  country.  The  rock 
upon  which  it  was  built  projected  over  a preci- 
pice whose  abysses  were  concealed  by  creeping 
plants,  cactus,  and  bamboos.  The  species  of 
table-rock  thus  formed  had  been  encircled  with 
a railing,  and  transformed  into  a terrace  on  a 
level  with  the  sleeping-room,  by  my  predecessor 
in  this  hermitage.  His  last  wish  had  been  to  be 
buried  there  ; and  from  my  bed  I could  see  his 
white  tombstone  gleaming  in  the  moonlight  a few 
steps  from  my  window.  Every  evening  I rolled 
my  piano  out  upon  the  terrace  ; and  there,  fac- 
ing the  most  incomparably  beautiful  landscape, 
all  bathed  in  the  soft  and  limpid  atmosphere  of 
the  tropics,  I poured  forth  on  the  instrument, 
and  for  myself  alone,  the  thoughts  with  which 
the  scene  inspired  me.  And  what  a scene  ! Pic- 
ture to  yourself  a gigantic  amphitheatre  hewn 
out  of  the  mountains  by  an  army  of  Titans ; 
right  and  left,  immense  virgin  forests  full  of 
those  subdued  and  distant  harmonies  which  are, 
as  it  were,  the  voices  of  Silence  ; before  me,  a 
prospect  of  twenty  leagues  marvelously  enhanced 
by  the  extreme  transparency  of  the  air  ; above, 
the  azure  of  the  sky  : beneath,  the  creviced  sides 


282  TIIE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

of  the  mountain  sweeping  down  to  the  plain  ; 
afar,  the  waving  savannas  ; beyond  them,  a gray- 
ish speck  (the  distant  city)  ; and,  encompassing 
them  all,  the  immensity  of  the  ocean  closing  the 
horizon  with  its  deep-blue  line.  Behind  me  was 
a rock  on  which  a torrent  of  melted  snow  dashed 
its  white  foam,  and  there,  diverted  from  its 
course,  rushed  with  a mad  leap  and  plunged 
headlong  into  the  gulf  that  yawned  beneath  my 
window. 

“Amid  such  scenes  I composed  ‘ Keponds- 
moi  la  Marche  des  Gibaros,’  ‘ Polonia,’ 4 Columbia,’ 
4 Pastorella  e Cavaliere,’  ‘ Jeunesse,’  and  many  other 
unpublished  works.  I allowed  my  fingers  to  run 
over  the  keys,  wrapped  up  in  the  contemplation 
of  these  wonders  ; while  my  poor  friend,  whom 
I heeded  but  little,  revealed  to  me  with  a childish 
loquacity  the  lofty  destiny  he  held  in  reserve  for 
humanity.  Can  you  conceive  the  contrast  pro- 
duced by  this  shattered  intellect  expressing  at 
random  its  disjointed  thoughts,  as  a disordered 
clock  strikes  by  chance  any  hour,  and  the  majes- 
tic serenity  of  the  scene  around  me  ? I felt  it 
instinctively.  My  misanthropy  gave  way.  I be- 
came indulgent  toward  myself  and  mankind,  and 
the  wounds  of  my  heart  closed  once  more.  My  de- 
spair was  soothed  ; and  soon  the  sun  of  the  trop- 
ics, which  tinges  all  things  with  gold — dreams  as 
well  as  fruits — restored  me  with  new  confidence 
and  vigor  to  my  wanderings. 


THALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 


283 


“I  relapsed  into  the  manners  and  life  of  these 
primitive  countries  : if  not  strictly  virtuous,  they 
are  at  all  events  terribly  attractive.  Existence 
in  a tropical  wilderness,  in  the  midst  of  a volup- 
tuous and  half-civilized  race,  bears  no  resem- 
blance to  that  of  a Londen  cockney,  a Parisian 
lounger,  or  an  American  Quaker.  Times  there 
were,  indeed,  when  a voice  was  heard  within  me 
that  spoke  of  nobler  aims.  It  reminded  me  of 
what  I once  was,  of  what  I yet  might  be  ; and 
commanded  imperatively  a return  to  a healthier 
and  more  active  life.  But  I had  allowed  myself 
to  be  enervated  by  this  baneful  languor,  this  in- 
sidious far  niente  ; and  my  moral  torpor  was  such 
that  the  mere  thought  of  reappearing  before  a 
polished  audience  struck  me  as  superlatively  ab- 
surd. 6 Where  was  the  object  ? ’ I would  ask  my- 
self. Moreover,  it  was  too  late  ; and  I went  on 
dreaming  with  open  eyes,  careering  on  horseback 
through  the  savannas,  listening  at  break  of  day  to 
the  prattle  of  the  parrots  in  the  guava-trees,  at 
nightfall  to  the  chirp  of  the  grillos  in  the  cane- 
fields,  or  else  smoking  my  cigar,  taking  my  coffee, 
rocking  myself  in  a hammock — in  short,  enjoy- 
ing all  the  delights  that  are  the  very  heart-blood 
of  a guajiro , and  out  of  the  sphere  of  which  he 
can  see  but  death,  or,  what  is  worse  to  him,  the 
feverish  agitation  of  our  Northern  society.  Go 
and  talk  of  the  funds,  of  the  landed  interest,  of 
stock-jobbing,  to  this  Sybarite  lord  of  the  wilder- 


284  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

ness,  who  can  live  all  the  year  round  on  luscious 
bananas  and  delicious  cocoa-nuts  which  he  is  not 
even  at  the  trouble  of  planting  ; who  has  the  best 
tobacco  in  the  world  to  smoke ; who  replaces  to- 
day the  horse  he  had  yesterday  by  a better  one, 
chosen  from  the  first  caballada  he  meets  ; who 
requires  no  further  protection  from  the  cold  than 
a pair  of  linen  trousers,  in  that  favored  clime 
where  the  seasons  roll  on  in  one  perennial  sum- 
mer ; who,  more  than  all  this,  finds  at  eve,  under 
the  rustling  palm-trees,  pensive  beauties,  eager  to 
reward  with  their  smiles  the  one  who  murmurs  in 
their  ears  those  three  words,  ever  new,  ever  beau- 
tiful, 6 Yo  te  quiero ” 


VI. 

Mr.  Gottschalk’s  return  to  America  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1862,  was  celebrated  by  a concert  in  Irving 
Hall,  on  the  anniversary  of  his  debut  in  New 
York.  This  was  the  beginning  of  another  brill- 
iant musical  series,  in  pursuance  of  which  he  ap- 
peared in  every  prominent  city  of  the  country. 
While  many  found  fault  with  Gottschalk  for  de- 
scending to  pure  “claptrap  ” and  bravura  playing, 
for  using  his  great  powers  to  merely  superficial  and 
unworthy  ends,  he  seemed  to  retain  as  great  a hold 
as  ever  over  the  masses  of  concert-goers.  Gott- 
schalk himself,  with  his  epicurean,  easy-going  na- 
ture, laughed  at  the  lectures  read  him  by  the  critics 
and  connoisseurs,  who  would  have  him  follow  out 


TIIALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 


285 


ideals  for  which  he  had  no  taste.  It  was  like 
asking  the  butterfly  to  live  the  life  of  the  bee. 
Great  as  were  the  gifts  of  the  artist,  it  was  not  to 
be  expected  that  these  would  be  pursued  in  lines 
not  consistent  with  the  limitations  of  his  temper- 
ament. Gottschalk  appears  to  have  had  no  de- 
sire except  to  amuse  and  delight  the  world, 
and  to  have  been  foreign  to  any  loftier  musical 
aspiration,  if  we  may  judge  by  his  own  record- 
ed words.  He  passed  through  life  as  would  a 
splendid  wild  singing  - bird,  making  music  be- 
cause it  was  the  law  of  his  being,  but  never  di- 
recting that  talent  with  conscious  energy  to  some 
purpose  beyond  itself. 

In  1863  family  misfortunes  and  severe  illness 
of  himself  cooperated  to  make  the  year  vacant  of 
musical  doings,  but  instantly  he  recovered  he  was 
engaged  by  M.  Strakosch  to  give  another  series 
of  concerts  in  the  leading  Eastern  cities.  With- 
out attempting  to  linger  over  his  career  for  the 
next  two  years,  let  us  pass  to  his  second  expedi- 
tion to  the  tropics  in  1865.  Four  years  were 
spent  in  South  America,  each  country  that  he 
visited  vieing  with  the  other  in  doing  him  honor. 
Magnificent  gifts  were  heaped  on  him  by  his  en- 
thusiastic Spanish- American  admirers,  and  life 
was  one  continual  ovation.  In  Peru  he  gave 
sixty  concerts,  and  was  presented  with  a costly 
decoration  of  gold,  diamond,  and  pearl.  In  Chili 
the  Government  voted  him  a grand  gold  medal, 


286  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


which  the  board  of  public  schools,  the  board  of 
visitors  of  the  hospitals,  and  the  municipal  govern- 
ment of  Valparaiso  supplemented  by  gold  medals, 
in  recognition  of  Gottschalk’s  munificence  in  the 
benefit  concerts  he  gave  for  various  public  and  hu- 
mane institutions.  The  American  pianist,  through 
the  whole  of  his  career,  had  shown  the  traditional 
benevolence  of  his  class  in  offering  his  services  to 
the  advancement  of  worthy  objects.  A similar  re- 
ception awaited  Gottschalk  in  Montevideo,  where 
the  artist  became  doubly  the  object  of  admiration 
by  the  substantial  additions  he  made  to  the  popu- 
lar educational  fund.  While  in  this  city  he  or- 
ganized and  conducted  a great  musical  festival  in 
which  three  hundred  musicians  engaged,  exclu- 
sive of  the  Italian  Opera  company  then  at  Monte- 
video. 

The  spring  of  1869  brought  Gottschalk  to  the 
last  scene  of  his  musical  triumphs,  for  the  span  of 
his  career  was  about  to  close  over  him.  Rio  J a- 
neiro,  the  capital  of  Brazil,  gave  Gottschalk  an 
ardent  reception,  which  made  this  city  properly 
the  culmination  of  his  toils  and  triumphs.  Gott- 
schalk wrote  that  his  performances  created  such  a 
furore  that  boxes  commanded  a premium  of 
seventy -five  dollars,  and  single  seats  fetched 
twenty-five.  He  was  frequently  entertained  by 
Dom  Pedro  at  the  palace  ; in  every  way  the  Bra- 
zilians testified  their  lavish  admiration  of  his 
artistic  talents.  In  the  midst  of  his  success  Gott- 


TIIALBERG  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 


287 


sclialk  was  seized  with  yellow  fever,  and  brought 
very  low.  Indeed,  the  report  came  back  to  New 
York  that  he  was  dead,  a report,  however,  which 
his  own  letters,  written  from  the  bed  of  convales- 
scence,  soon  contradicted. 

In  October  of  1869  Gottschalk  was  appointed 
by  the  emperor  to  take  the  leadership  of  a great 
festival,  in  which  eight  hundred  performers  in  or- 
chestra and  chorus  would  take  part.  Indefatig- 
able labor,  in  rehearsing  his  musicians  and  organ- 
izing the  almost  innumerable  details  of  such  an 
affair,  acted  on  a frame  which  had  not  yet  re- 
covered its  strength  from  a severe  attack  of  ill- 
ness. With  difficulty  he  dragged  himself  through 
the  tedious  preparation,  and  when  he  stood  up  to 
conduct  the  first  concert  of  the  festival,  on  the 
evening  of  November  26,  he  was  so  weak  that  he 
could  scarcely  stand.  The  next  day  he  was  too 
ill  to  rise,  and,  though  he  forced  himself  to  go 
to  the  opera-house  in  the  evening,  he  was  so 
weak  as  to  be  unable  to  conduct  the  music,  and 
he  had  to  be  driven  back  to  his  hotel.  The 
best  medical  skill  watched  over  him,  but  his 
hour  had  come,  and  after  three  weeks  of  severe 
suffering  he  died,  December  18,  1869.  The  fun- 
eral solemnities  at  the  Cathedral  of  Rio  were  of 
the  most  imposing  character,  and  all  the  indi- 
cations of  really  heart  - felt  sorrow  were  shown 
among  the  vast  crowd  of  spectators,  for  Gott- 
schalk had  quickly  endeared  himself  to  the  pub- 


288  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


lie  both  as  man  and  artist.  At  the  time  of  Gott- 
schalk’s  death,  it  was  his  purpose  to  set  sail  for 
Europe  at  the  earliest  practicable  moment,  to 
secure  the  publication  of  some  of  his  more  im- 
portant works,  and  the  production  of  his  operas, 
of  which  he  had  the  finished  scores  of  not  less 
than  six. 

Louis  Moreau  Gottschalk  was  an  artist  and 
composer  whose  gifts  were  never  more  than  half 
developed  ; for  his  native  genius  as  a musician 
was  of  the  highest  order.  Shortly  before  he 
died,  at  the  age  of  forty,  he  seemed  to  have  ri- 
pened into  more  earnest  views  and  purposes,  and, 
had  he  lived  to  fulfill  his  prime,  it  is  reasonable 
to  hazard  the  conjecture  that  he  would  have 
richly  earned  a far  loftier  niche  in  the  pantheon 
of  music  than  can  now  be  given  him.  A rich, 
pleasure-loving,  Oriental  temperament,  which 
tended  to  pour  itself  forth  in  dreams  instead  of 
action  ; vivid  emotional  sensibilities,  which  en- 
abled him  to  exhaust  all  the  resources  of  pleasure 
where  imagination  stimulates  sense  ; and  a thor- 
ough optimism  in  his  theories,  which  saw  every- 
thing at  its  best,  tended  to  blunt  the  keen 
ambition  which  would  otherwise  inevitably  have 
stirred  the  possessor  of  such  artistic  gifts.  Gott- 
schalk fell  far  short  of  his  possibilities,  though 
he  was  the  greatest  piano  executant  ever  produced 
by  our  own  country.  He  might  have  dazzled  the 
world  even  as  he  dazzled  his  own  partial  country- 


T 1IAL BERG  AND  GOTTSCIIALK. 


289 


men.  His  style  as  a pianist  was  sparkling,  dash- 
ing, showy,  but,  in  the  judgment  of  the  most 
judicious,  he  did  not  appear  to  good  advantage  in 
comparison  with  Thalberg,  in  whom  a perfect 
technique  was  dominated  by  a conscious  intel- 
lectualism,  and  a high  ideal,  passionless  but  se- 
verely beautiful. 

Gottschalk’s  idiosyncrasy  as  a composer  ran 
in  parallel  lines  with  that  of  the  player.  Most  of 
the  works  of  this  musician  are  brilliant,  charm- 
ing, tender,  melodious,  full  of  captivating  excel- 
lence, but  bright  with  the  flash  of  fancy,  rather 
than  strong  with  the  power  of  imagination.  We 
do  not  find  in  his  piano-forte  pieces  any  of  that 
subtile  soul-searching  force  which  penetrates  to 
the  deepest  roots  of  thought  and  feeling.  Sundry 
musical  cynics  were  wont  to  crush  Gottschalk’s 
individuality  into  the  coffin  of  a single  epigram  . 
“A  musical  bonbon  to  tickle  the  palates  of  senti- 
mental women.5’  But  this  falls  as  far  short  of 
justice  as  the  enthusiasm  of  many  of  his  admirers 
overreaches  it.  The  easy  and  genial  tempera- 
ment of  the  man,  his  ability  to  seize  the  things 
of  life  on  their  bright  side,  and  a naive  indolence 
which  indisposed  the  artist  to  grapple  with  the 
severest  obligations  of  an  art  life,  prevented  Gott- 
schalk  from  attaining  the  greatness  possible  to 
him,  but  they  contributed  to  make  him  singularly 
lovable,  and  to  justify  the  passionate  attachment 
which  he  inspired  in  most  of  those  who  knew  him 


290  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

well.  But,  with  all  of  Gottschalk’s  limitations, 
he  must  be  considered  the  most  noticeable  and 
able  of  pianists  and  composers  for  the  piano  yet 
produced  by  the  United  States» 


FRANZ  LISZT, 


The  Spoiled  Favorite  of  Fortune. — His  Inherited  Genius. — Birth 
and  Early  Training. — First  Appearance  in  Concert. — Adam 
Liszt  and  his  Son  in  Paris. — Sensation  made  by  the  Boy’s 
Playing. — His  Morbid  Religious  Sufferings. — Franz  Liszt 
thrown  on  his  own  Resources. — The  Artistic  Circle  in  Paris. 
— Liszt  in  the  Ranks  of  Romanticism. — His  Friends  and  Asso- 
ciates.— Mme.  D’Agoult  and  her  Connection  with  Franz 
Liszt. — He  retires  to  Geneva. — Is  recalled  to  Paris  by  the 
Thalberg  Furore. — Rivalry  between  the  Artists,  and  their 
Factions. — He  commences  his  Career  as  Traveling  Virtuoso. 
— The  Blaze  of  Enthusiasm  throughout  Europe.— Schumann 
on  Liszt  as  Man  and  Artist. — He  ranks  the  Hungarian  Virtu- 
oso as  the  Superior  of  Thalberg. — Liszt’s  Generosity  to  his  own 
Countrymen. —The  Honors  paid  to  him  in  Pesth. — Incidents 
of  his  Musical  Wanderings. — He  loses  the  Proceeds  of  Three 
Hundred  Concerts. — Contributes  to  the  Completion  of  the  Co- 
logne Cathedral. — His  Connection  with  the  Beethoven  Statue 
at  Bonn,  and  the  Celebration  of  the  Unveiling. — Chorley  on 
Liszt. — Berlioz  and  Liszt. — Character  of  the  Enthusiasm 
called  out  by  Liszt  as  an  Artist. — Remarkable  Personality  as 
a Man. — Berlioz  characterizes  the  Great  Virtuoso  in  a Letter. 
— Liszt  ceases  his  Life  as  a Virtuoso,  and  becomes  Chapel- 
Master  and  Court  Conductor  at  Weimar. — Avowed  Belief  in 
the  New  School  of  Music,  and  Production  of  Works  of  this 
School. — Wagner’s  Testimony  to  Liszt’s  Assistance. — Liszt’s 
Resignation  of  his  Weimar  Post  after  Ten  Years. — His  Sub- 
sequent Life. — He  takes  Holy  Orders. — Liszt  as  a Virtuoso 
and  Composer. — Entitled  to  be  placed  among  the  most  Re- 
markable Men  of  his  Age. 

I. 

There  are  but  few  names  in  music  more 
interesting  than  that  of  Franz  Liszt,  the  spoiled 


292  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


favorite  of  Europe  for  more  than  half  a century, 
and  without  question  the  greatest  piano-forte  vir- 
tuoso that  ever  lived.  His  life  has  passed  through 
the  sunniest  regions  of  fortune  and  success,  and 
from  his  cradle  upward  the  gods  have  showered  on 
him  their  richest  gifts.  His  career  as  an  artist  and 
musician  has  been  most  remarkable,  his  personal 
life  full  of  romance,  and  his  connection  with 
some  of  the  most  vital  changes  in  music  which 
have  occurred  during  the  century  interesting  and 
significant.  From  his  first  appearance  in  public, 
at  the  age  of  twelve,  his  genius  was  acknowledged 
with  enthusiasm  throughout  the  whole  republic 
of  art,  from  Beethoven  down  to  the  obscurest 
dilletante , and  it  may  be  asserted  that  the  history 
of  music  knows  no  instance  of  success  approach- 
ing that  achieved  by  the  performances  of  this 
great  player  in  every  capital  of  Europe,  from 
Madrid  to  St.  Petersburg.  When  hevwearied  of 
the  fame  of  the  virtuoso,  and  became  a compos- 
er, not  only  for  the  piano-forte,  but  for  the  or- 
chestra, his  invincible  energy  soon  overcame  all 
difficulties  in  his  path,  and  he  has  lived  to  see 
himself  accepted  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  living 
musical  thinkers  and  writers. 

The  life  of  Liszt  is  so  crowded  with  important 
incidents  that  it  is  difficult  to  condense  into  the 
brief  limits  of  a sketch  any  fairly  adequate  state- 
ment of  his  career.  He  was  born  October  22, 
1811,  in  the  village  of  Raiding,  in  Hungary,  and 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


293 


It  is  said  that  his  father  Adam  Liszt,  who  was 
in  the  service  of  the  Prince  Esterhazy,  was  firmly 
convinced  that  the  child  would  become  distin- 
guished on  account  of  the  appearance  of  a remark- 
able comet  during  the  year.  Adam  Liszt  him- 
self was  a fine  pianist,  gifted  indeed  with  a talent 
which  might  have  made  him  eminent  had  he  pur- 
sued it.  All  his  ambition  and  hope,  however, 
centered  in  his  son,  in  whom  musical  genius 
quickly  declared  itself ; and  the  father  found 
teaching  this  gifted  child  not  only  a labor  of 
love,  but  a task  smoothed  by  the  extraordinary 
aptness  of  the  pupil.  He  was  accustomed  to  say 
to  the  young  Franz  : “My  son,  you  are  destined 
to  realize  the  glorious  ideal  that  has  shone  in 
vain  before  my  youth.  In  you  that  is  to  reach 
its  fulfillment  which  I have  myself  but  faintly 
conceived.  In  you  shall  my  genius  grow  up  and 
bear  fruit ; I shall  renew  my  youth  in  you  even 
after  I am  laid  in  the  grave.  ” Such  prophetic 
words  recall  the  vision  of  the  Genoese  woman, 
who  foresaw  the  future  greatness  of  the  little 
Nicolo  Paganini,  a genius  who  resembled  in  many 
ways  the  phenomenal  musical  force  embodied  in 
Franz  Liszt.  When  the  lad  was  very  young,  per- 
haps not  more  than  six,  he  read  the  “Rene”  of 
Chateaubriand,  and  it  made  such  an  indelible 
impression  on  his  mind  that  he  in  after  years 
spoke  of  it  as  having  been  one  of  the  most  potent 
influences  of  his  life,  since  it  stimulated  the  natu- 


294  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


ral  melancholy  of  his  character  when  his  nature 
was  most  flexible  and  impressible. 

At  the  age  of  nine  he  made  his  first  appear- 
ance in  public  at  Odenburg,  playing  Ries’s  con- 
certo in  three  flats,  and  improvising  a fantasia 
so  full  of  melodic  ideas,  striking  rhythms,  and 
well-arranged  harmony  as  to  strike  the  audience 
with  surprise  and  admiration.  Among  the  hear- 
ers was  Prince  Esterhazy,  who  was  so  pleased 
with  the  precocious  talent  shown  that  he  put  a 
purse  of  fifty  ducats  in  the  young  musician’s 
hand.  Soon  after  this  Adam  Liszt  went  to  Pres- 
burg  to  live,  and  several  noblemen,  among  whom 
were  Prince  Esterhazy,  and  the  Counts  Amadee 
and  Szapary,  all  of  them  enthusiastic  patrons  of 
music,  determined  to  bear  the  burden  of  the 
boy’s  musical  education.  To  this  end  they  agreed 
to  allow  him  six  hundred  florins  a year  for  six 
years.  Young  Liszt  was  placed  at  Vienna  under 
the  tutelage  of  the  celebrated  pianist  and  teacher 
Czerny,  and  soon  made  such  progress  that  he  was 
able  to  play  such  works  as  those  even  of  Beetho- 
ven and  Hummel  at  first  sight.  When  Liszt  did 
this  for  one  of  Hummel’s  most  difficult  concertos, 
at  the  rooms  of  the  music  publisher  one  day,  it 
created  a great  sensation  in  Vienna,  and  he  quickly 
became  one  of  the  lions  of  the  drawing-rooms  of 
the  capital.  Czerny  himself  was  so  much  de- 
lighted with  the  genius  of  his  charge  that  he 
refused  to  accept  the  three  hundred  florins  stipu- 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


295 


lated  for  his  lessons,  saying  he  was  but  too  well 
repaid  by  the  success  of  the  pupil. 

Though  toiling  with  incessant  industry  in  mu- 
sical study  and  practice,  for  the  boy  was  working 
at  composition  with  Salieri  and  Randhartinger, 
as  well  as  the  piano-forte  with  Czerny,  he  found 
time  to  indulge  in  those  strange,  mystical,  and 
fantastic  dreams  which  have  molded  his  whole 
life,  oscillating  between  pietistic  delirium,  where- 
in he  saw  celestial  visions  and  felt  the  call  to  a 
holy  life,  and  the  most  voluptuous  images  and  as- 
pirations for  earthly  pleasures.  Franz  Liszt  at 
this  early  age  had  a sensibility  so  delicate,  and  an 
imagination  so  quickly  kindled,  that  he  himself 
tells  us  no  one  can  guess  the  extremes  of  ecstasy 
and  despair  through  which  he  alternately  passed. 
These  spiritual  experiences  were  perhaps  fed  by 
the  mysticism  of  Jacob  Boehme,  whose  works 
came  into  his  possession,  and  furnished  a most 
delusive  and  dangerous  guide  for  the  young  en- 
thusiast’s fancy.  But,  dream  and  suffer  as  he 
might,  nothing  was  allowed  to  quench  the  ardor 
of  his  musical  studies. 

Eighteen  months  were  passed  in  diligent  labor 
under  the  guidance  of  the  masters,  who  found 
teaching  almost  unnecessary,  as  the  wonderful 
lad  needed  but  a hint  to  work  out  for  himself  the 
most  difficult  problems,  and  he  toiled  so  inces- 
santly that  he  often  became  conscious  of  the 
change  of  day  into  night  only  by  the  failure  of 
20 


296  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


the  light  and  the  coming  of  the  candles.  Finally, 
by  advice  of  Salieri,  after  eighteen  months  of 
labor,  he  determined  to  appear  in  concert  in 
Vienna.  On  this  occasion  the  audience  was  com- 
posed of  the  most  distinguished  people  of  Vienna, 
drawn  thither  to  hear  the  young  musical  wonder 
of  whom  every  one  talked.  Among  the  hearers 
was  Beethoven,  who  after  the  concert  gave  the 
proud  boy  the  most  cordial  praise,  and  prophesied 
a great  career  for  him. 

The  elder  Liszt  was  already  in  Paris,  and  it 
was  determined  that  Franz  should  go  to  that  city, 
to  avail  himself  of  the  instructions  of  Cherubini, 
at  the  Conservatoire,  who  as  a teacher  of  counter- 
point had  no  equal  in  Europe.  The  Prince  Met- 
ternich  sent  letters  of  the  warmest  recommenda- 
tion, but  they  were  of  no  avail,  for  Cherubini, 
who  was  singularly  whimsical  and  obstinate  in  his 
notions,  refused  to  accept  the  new  candidate,  on 
account  of  the  rule  of  the  Conservatoire  exclud- 
ing pupils  of  foreign  birth,  a plea  which  the 
famous  director  did  not  hesitate  to  break  when 
he  chose.  Franz,  however,  continued  his  stud- 
ies under  Reicha  and  Paer,  and,  while  the  gates 
of  the  Conservatoire  were  closed,  all  the  salons 
of  Paris  opened  to  receive  him.  Everywhere  he 
was  feted,  courted,  caressed.  This  fair-haired, 
blue-eyed  lad,  with  the  seal  of  genius  burning 
on  his  face,  had  made  the  social  world  mad  over 
him.  The  young  adventurer  was  sailing  in  a 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


297 


treacherous  channel,  full  of  dangerous  reefs. 
Would  he,  in  the  homage  paid  to  him,  an  un- 
matured youth,  by  scholars,  artists,  wealth,  beau- 
ty, and  rank,  forgot  in  mere  self-love  and  van- 
ity his  high  obligations  to  his  art  and  the  sin- 
cere devotion  which  alone  could  wrest  from  art 
its  richest  guerdon  ? This  problem  seems  to 
have  troubled  his  father,  for  he  determined  to 
take  his  young  Franz  away  from  the  palace  of 
Circe.  The  boy  had  already  made  an  attempt  at 
composition  in  the  shape  of  an  operetta,  in  one 
act,  “ Don  Sanche,”  which  was  very  well  received 
at  the  Academie  Royale.  Adolph  Nourrit,  the 
great  singer,  had  led  the  young  composer  on  the 
stage,  where  he  was  received  with  thunders  of  ap- 
plause by  the  audience,  and  was  embraced  with 
transport  by  Rudolph  Kreutzer,  the  director  of 
the  orchestra. 

Adam  Liszt  and  his  son  went  to  England,  and 
spent  about  six  months  in  giving  concerts  in  Lon- 
don and  other  cities.  Franz  was  less  than  four- 
teen years  old,  but  the  pale,  fragile,  slender  boy 
had,  in  the  deep  melancholy  which  stamped  the 
noble  outline  of  his  face,  an  appearance  of  matu- 
rity that  belied  his  years.  English  audiences 
everywhere  received  him  with  admiration,  but 
he  seemed  to  have  lost  all  zest  for  the  intoxi- 
cating wine  of  public  favor.  A profound  gloom 
stole  over  him,  and  we  even  hear  of  hints  at  an 
attempt  to  commit  suicide.  Adam  Liszt  attrib- 


298  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

uted  it  to  the  sad  English  climate,  which  Hein- 
rich Heine  cursed  with  such  unlimited  bitter- 
ness, and  took  his  boy  back  again  to  sunnier 
France.  But  the  dejection  darkened  and  deep- 
ened, threatening  even  to  pass  into  epilepsy.  It 
assumed  the  form  of  religious  enthusiasm,  alter- 
nating with  fits  of  remorse  as  of  one  who  had 
committed  the  unpardonable  sin,  and  sometimes 
expressed  itself  in  a species  of  frenzy  for  the  mo- 
nastic life.  These  strange  experiences  alarmed 
the  father,  and,  in  obedience  to  medical  advice,  he 
took  the  ailing,  half-hysterical  lad  to  Boulogne- 
sur-Mer,  for  sea-bathing. 

II. 

While  by  the  seaside  Franz  Liszt  lost  the 
father  who  had  loved  him  with  the  devotion  of 
father  and  mother  combined.  This  fresh  stroke 
of  affliction  deepened  his  dejection,  and  finally 
resulted  in  a fit  of  severe  illness.  When  he  was 
convalescent  new  views  of  life  seemed  to  inspire 
him.  He  was  now  entirely  thrown  on  his  own 
resources  for  support,  for  Adam  Liszt  had  left 
his  affairs  so  deeply  involved  that  there  was  but 
little  left  for  his  son  and  widow.  A powerful 
nature,  turned  awry  by  unhealthy  broodings,  is 
often  rescued  from  its  own  mental  perversities 
by  the  sense  of  some  new  responsibility  sudden- 
ly imposed  on  it.  Boy  as  Liszt  was,  the  Titan 
in  him  had  already  shown  itself  in  the  agonies 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


299 


and  struggles  which  he  had  undergone,  and,  now 
that  the  necessity  of  hard  work  suddenly  came, 
the  atmosphere  of  turmoil  and  gloom  began  to 
clear  under  the  imminent  practical  burden  of 
life.  He  set  resolutely  to  work  composing  and 
giving  concerts.  The  religious  mania  under 
which  he  had  rested  for  a while  turned  his 
thoughts  to  sacred  music,  and  most  of  his  com- 
positions were  masses.  But  the  very  effort  of  re- 
sponsible toil  set,  as  it  were,  a background  against 
which  he  could  appoint  the  true  place  and  dimen- 
sions of  his  art  work.  There  was  another  dis- 
turbance, however,  which  now  stirred  up  his 
excitable  mind.  He  fell  madly  in  love  with  a 
lady  of  high  rank,  and  surrendered  his  young 
heart  entirely  to  this  new  passion.  The  unfortu- 
nate issue  of  this  attachment,  for  the  lady  was 
much  older  than  himself,  and  laughed  with  a 
gentle  mockery  at  the  infatuation  of  her  young 
adorer,  made  Liszt  intensely  unhappy  and  mis- 
anthropical, but  it  did  not  prevent  him  from 
steady  labor.  Indeed,  work  became  all  the  more 
welcome,  as  it  served  to  distract  his  mind  from 
its  amorous  pains,  and  his  fantastic  musings,  in- 
stead of  feeding  on  themselves,  expressed  them- 
selves in  his  art.  Certainly  no  healthier  sign  of 
one  beginning  to  clothe  himself  in  his  right  mind 
again  can  easily  be  imagined. 

Liszt  was  now  twenty  years  of  age,  and  had 
regularly  settled  in  Paris.  He  became  acquainted 


300  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


intimately  with  the  leaders  of  French  literature, 
and  was  an  habitue  of  the  brilliant  circles  which 
gathered  these  great  minds  night  after  night. 
Lamartine  and  Chateaubriand  were  yielding  place 
to  a young  and  fiery  school  of  writers  and  think- 
ers, but  cordially  clasped  hands  with  the  succes- 
sors whom  they  themselves  had  made  possible. 
Mme.  George  Sand,  Balzac,  Dumas,  Victor  Hugo, 
and  others  were  just  then  beginning  to  stir  in 
the  mental  revolution  which  they  made  famous. 
Liszt  felt  a deep  interest  in  the  literary  and  scien- 
tific interests  of  the  day,  and  he  threw  himself 
into  the  new  movement  with  great  enthusiasm, 
for  its  strong  wave  moved  art  as  well  as  letters 
with  convulsive  throes.  The  musician  found  in 
this  fresh  impulse  something  congenial  to  his 
own  fiery,  restless,  aspiring  nature.  He  entered 
eagerly  into  all  the  intellectual  movements  of 
the  day.  He  became  a St.  Simonian  and  such 
a hot-headed  politician  that,  had  he  not  been 
an  artist,  and  as  such  considered  a harmless 
fanatic,  he  would  perhaps  have  incurred  some 
penalties.  Liszt  has  left  us,  in  his  “Life  of 
Chopin/’  and  his  letters,  some  very  vivid  portrai- 
tures of  the  people  and  the  events,  the  fascinating 
literary  and  artistic  reunions,  and  the  personal 
experiences  which  made  this  part  of  his  life  so 
interesting ; but,  tempting  as  it  is,  we  can  not  lin- 
ger. There  can  be  no  question  that  this  section  of 
his  career  profoundly  colored  his  whole  life,  and 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


301 


that  the  influence  of  Victor  Hugo,  Balzac,  and 
Mine.  George  Sand  is  very  perceptible  in  his  com- 
positions not  merely  in  their  superficial  tone  and 
character,  but  in  the  very  theory  on  which  they 
are  built.  Liszt  thenceforward  cut  loose  from  all 
classic  restraints,  and  dared  to  fling  rules  and 
canons  to  the  winds,  except  so  far  as  his  artistic 
taste  approved  them.  The  brilliant  and  daring 
coterie,  defying  conventionality  and  the  dull  de- 
corum of  social  law,  in  which  our  artist  lived, 
wrought  also  another  change  in  his  character. 
Liszt  had  hitherto  been  almost  austere  in  his  self- 
denial,  in  restraint  of  passion  and  license,  in  a re- 
ligious purity  of  life,  as  if  he  dwelt  in  the  cold 
shadow  of  the  monastery,  not  knowing  what  mo- 
ment he  should  disappear  within  its  gates.  There 
was  now  to  be  a radical  change. 

One  of  the  brilliant  members  of  the  coterie  in 
which  he  lived  a life  of  such  keen  mental  activity 
was  Countess  D’Agoult,  who  afterward  became 
famous  in  the  literary  world  as  “Daniel  Stern.” 
Beautiful,  witty,  accomplished,  imaginative,  thor- 
oughly in  sympathy  with  her  friend  George  Sand 
in  her  views  of  love  and  matrimony,  and  not  less 
daring  in  testifying  to  her  opinion  by  actions,  the 
name  of  Mme.  D’Agoult  had  already  been  widely 
bruited  abroad  in  connection  with  more  than  one 
romantic  escapade.  In  the  powerful  personality 
of  young  Franz  Liszt,  instinct  with  an  artistic 
genius  which  aspired  like  an  eagle,  vital  with  a 


302  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

resolute,  reckless  will,  and  full  of  a magnetic  en- 
ergy that  overflowed  in  everything — looks,  move- 
ments, talk,  playing — the  somewhat  fickle  nature 
of  Mme.  D’Agoult  was  drawn  to'  the  artist  like 
steel  to  a magnet.  Liszt,  on  the  other  hand,  easily 
yielded  to  the  refined  and  delicious  sensuousness 
of  one  of  the  most  accomplished  women  of  her 
time,  who  to  every  womanly  fascination  added 
the  rarest  mental  gifts  and  high  social  place. 

The  mutual  passion  soon  culminated  in  a tie 
which  lasted  for  many  years,  and  was  perhaps  as 
faithfully  observed  by  both  parties  as  could  be 
expected  of  such  an  irregular  connection.  Three 
children  were  the  offspring  of  this  attachment,  a 
son  who  died,  and  two  daughters,  one  of  whom 
became  the  wife  of  M.  Ollivier,  the  last  imperial 
prime  minister  of  France,  and  the  other  succes- 
sively Mme.  Yon  Billow  and  Mme.  Wagner,  un- 
der which  latter  title  she  is  still  known.  The 
chroniques  scandaleuses  of  Paris  and  other  great 
cities  of  Europe  are  full  of  racy  scandals  purport- 
ing to  connect  the  name  of  Liszt  with  well-known 
charming  and  beautiful  women,  but,  aside  from 
the  uncertainty  which  goes  with  such  rumors, 
this  is  not  a feature  of  Liszt’s  life  on  which  it  is 
our  purpose  to  dilate.  The  errors  of  such  a man, 
exposed  by  his  temperament  and  surroundings  to 
the  fiercest  breath  of  temptation,  should  be  rather 
veiled  than  opened  to  the  garish  day.  Of  the 
connection  with  Mme.  D’Agoult  something  has 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


303 


been  briefly  told,  because  it  had  an  important 
influence  on  his  art  career.  Though  the  Church 
had  never  sanctioned  the  tie,  there  is  every  reason 
to  believe  that  the  lady’s  power  over  Liszt  was 
consistently  used  to  restrain  his  naturally  eccen- 
tric bias,  and  to  keep  his  thoughts  fixed  on  the 
loftiest  art  ideals. 

ill. 

Soon  after  Liszt’s  connection  with  Mme. 
D’Agoult  began,  he  retired  with  his  devoted  com- 
panion to  Geneva,  Switzerland,  a city  always  cele- 
brated in  the  annals  of  European  literature  and 
art.  In  the  quiet  and  charming  atmosphere  of 
this  city  our  artist  spent  two  years,  busy  for  the 
most  part  in  composing.  He  had  already  at- 
tained a superb  rank  as  a pianist,  and  of  those 
virtuosos  who  had  then  exhibited  their  talents  in 
Paris  no  one  was  considered  at  all  worthy  to  be 
compared  with  Liszt  except  Chopin.  Aside  from 
the  great  mental  grasp,  the  opulent  imagination, 
the  fire  and  passion,  the  dazzling  technical  skill  of 
the  player,  there  was  a vivid  personality  in  Liszt 
as  a man  which  captivated  audiences.  This  ele- 
ment dominated  his  slightest  action.  He  strode 
over  the  concert  stage  with  the  haughty  step  of  a 
despot  who  ruled  with  a sway  not  to  be  contested. 
Tearing  his  gloves  from  his  fingers  and  hurling 
them  on  the  piano,  he  would  seat  himself  with  a 
proud  gesture,  run  his  fingers  through  his  waving 
blonde  locks,  and  then  attack  the  piano  with  the 


804  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

vehemence  of  a conqueror  taking  his  army  into 
action.  Much  of  this  manner  was  probably  the 
outcome  of  natural  temperament,  something  the 
result  of  affectation  ; but  it  helped  to  add  to  the 
glamour  with  which  Liszt  always  held  his  au- 
diences captive.  When  he  left  Paris  for  a studi- 
ous retirement  at  Geneva,  the  throne  became  va- 
cant. By  and  by  there  came  a contestant  for  the 
seat,  a player  no  less  remarkable  in  many  respects 
than  Liszt  himself,  Sigismond  Thalberg,  whose 
performances  aroused  Paris,  alert  for  a new  sen- 
sation, into  an  enthusiasm  which  quickly  mounted 
to  boiling  heat.  Rumors  of  the  danger  threatened 
to  his  hitherto  acknowledged  ascendancy  reached 
Liszt  in  his  Swiss  retreat.  The  artist’s  ambition 
was  stirred  to  the  quick  ; he  could  not  sleep  at 
night  with  the  thought  of  this  victorious  rival 
who  was  snatching  his  laurels,  and  he  hastened 
back  to  Paris  to  meet  Thalberg  on  his  own  ground. 
The  latter,  however,  had  already  left  Paris,  and 
Liszt  only  felt  the  ground-swell  of  the  storm  he 
had  raised.  There  was  a hot  division  of  opinion 
among  the  Parisians,  as  there  had  been  in  the  days 
of  Gluck  and  Piccini.  Society  was  divided  into 
Lisztians  and  Thalbergians,  and  to  indulge  in 
this  strife  was  the  favorite  amusement  of  the 
fashionable  world.  Liszt  proceeded  to  reestablish 
his  place  by  a series  of  remarkable  concerts,  in 
which  he  introduced  to  the  public  some  of  the 
works  wrought  out  during  his  retirement,  among 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


305 


them  transcriptions  from  the  songs  of  Schubert 
and  the  symphonies  of  Beethoven,  in  which  the 
most  free  and  passionate  poetic  spirit  was  ex- 
pressed through  the  medium  of  technical  difficul- 
ties in  the  scoring  before  unknown  to  the  art  of 
the  piano-forte.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
influence  of  Thalberg’s  rivalry  on  Liszt’s  mind 
was  a strong  force,  and  suggested  new  combina- 
tions. Without  having  heard  Thalberg,  our  ar- 
tist had  already  divined  the  secret  of  his  effects, 
and  borrowed  from  them  enough  to  give  a new 
impulse  to  an  inventive  faculty  which  was  fertile 
in  expedients  and  quick  to  assimilate  all  things  of 
value  to  the  uses  of  its  own  insatiable  ambition. 

Franz  Liszt’s  career  as  a traveling  virtuoso 
commenced  in  1837,  and  lasted  for  twelve  years. 
Hitherto  he  had  resisted  the  impulsion  to  such 
a course,  all  his  desires  rushing  toward  composi- 
tion, but  the  extraordinary  rewards  promised 
cooperated  with  the  spur  of  rivalry  to  overcome 
all  scruples.  The  first  year  of  these  art  travels 
was  made  memorable  by  the  great  inundation 
of  the  Danube,  which  caused  so  much  suffering 
at  Pesth.  Thousands  of  people  were  rendered 
homeless,  and  the  scene  was  one  that  appealed 
piteously  to  the  humanitarian  mind.  The  heart 
of  Franz  Liszt  burned  with  sympathy,  and  he 
devoted  the  proceeds  of  his  concerts  for  nearly 
two  months  to  the  alleviation  of  the  woes  of  his 
countrymen.  A princely  sum  was  contributed 


306  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


by  the  artist,  which  went  far  to  assist  the  suffer- 
ers. The  number  of  occasions  on  which  Liszt 
gave  his  services  to  charity  was  legion.  It  is 
credibly  stated  that  the  amount  of  benefactions 
contributed  by  his  benefit  concerts,  added  to  the 
immense  sums  which  he  directly  disbursed,  would 
have  made  him  several  times  a millionaire. 

The  blaze  of  enthusiasm  which  Liszt  kindled 
made  his  track  luminous  throughout  the  musical 
centers  of  Europe.  Caesar-like,  his  very  arrival 
was  a victory,  for  it  aroused  an  indescribable 
ferment  of  agitation,  which  rose  at  his  concerts 
to  wild  excesses.  Ladies  of  the  highest  rank  tore 
their  gloves  to  strips  in  the  ardor  of  their  ap- 
plause, flung  their  jewels  on  the  stage  instead  of 
bouquets,  shrieked  in  ecstasy  and  sometimes 
fainted,  and  made  a wild  rush  for  the  stage  at 
the  close  of  the  music  to  see  Liszt,  and  obtain 
some  of  the  broken  strings  of  the  piano,  which 
the  artist  had  ruined  in  the  heat  of  his  play,  as 
precious  relics  of  the  occasion.  The  stories  told 
of  the  Liszt  craze  among  the  ladies  of  Germany 
and  Russia  are  highly  amusing,  and  have  a value 
as  registering  the  degree  of  the  effect  he  pro- 
duced on  impressible  minds.  Even  sober  and 
judicious  critics  who  knew  well  whereof  they 
spoke  yielded  to  the  contagion.  Schumann 
writes  of  him,  apropos  of  his  Dresden  and  Leip- 
zig concerts  in  1840  : “ The  whole  audience 
greeted  his  appearance  with  an  enthusiastic 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


307 


storm  of  applause,  and  then  he  began  to  play. 
I had  heard  him  before,  but  an  artist  is  a differ- 
ent thing  in  the  presence  of  the  public  compared 
with  what  he  appears  in  the  presence  of  a few. 
The  fine  open  space,  the  glitter  of  light,  the 
elegantly  dressed  audience — all  this  elevates  the 
frame  of  mind  in  the  giver  and  receiver.  And 
now  the  demon’s  power  began  to  awake  ; he  first 
played  with  the  public  as  if  to  try  it,  then  gave 
it  something  more  profound,  until  every  single 
member  was  enveloped  in  his  art  ; and  then  the 
whole  mass  began  to  rise  and  fall  precisely  as  he 
willed  it.  I never  found  any  artist  except  Paga- 
nini to  possess  in  so  high  a degree  this  power  of 
subjecting,  elevating,  and  leading  the  public.  It 
is  an  instantaneous  variety  of  wildness,  tender- 
ness, boldness,  and  airy  grace  ; the  instrument 
glows  under  the  hand  of  its  master.  . . . It  is 
most  easy  to  speak  of  his  outward  appearance. 
People  have  often  tried  to  picture  this  by  com- 
paring Liszt’s  head  to  Schiller’s  or  Napoleon’s ; 
and  the  comparison  so  far  holds  good,  in  that 
extraordinary  men  possess  certain  traits  in  com- 
mon, such  as  an  expression  of  energy  and 
strength  of  will  in  the  eyes  and  mouth.  He  has 
some  resemblance  to  the  portraits  of  Napoleon  as 
a young  general,  pale,  thin,  with  a remarkable 
profile,  the  whole  significance  of  his  appearance 
culminating  in  his  head.  While  listening  to 
Liszt’s  playing,  I have  often  almost  imagined 


308  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

myself  as  listening  to  one  I heard  long  before. 
But  this  art  is  scarcely  to  be  described.  It  is 
not  this  or  that  style  of  piano-forte  playing ; it 
is  rather  the  outward  expression  of  a daring 
character,  to  whom  Fate  has  given  as  instru- 
ments of  victory  and  command,  not  the  danger- 
ous weapon  of  war,  but  the  peaceful  ones  of  art. 
No  matter  how  many  and  great  artists  we  possess 
or  have  seen  pass  before  us  of  recent  years, 
though  some  of  them  equal  him  in  single  points, 
all  must  yield  to  him  in  energy  and  boldness. 
People  have  been  very  fond  of  placing  Thalberg 
in  the  lists  beside  him,  and  then  drawing  com- 
parisons. But  it  is  only  necessary  to  look  at 
both  heads  to  come  to  a conclusion.  I remember 
the  remark  of  a Viennese  designer  who  said,  not 
inaptly,  that  his  countryman’s  head  resembled 
that  of  a handsome  countess  with  a man’s  nose, 
while  of  Liszt  he  observed  that  he  might  sit  to 
every  painter  for  a Grecian  god.  There  is  a simi- 
lar difference  in  their  art.  Chopin  stands  nearer 
to  Liszt  as  a player,  for  at  least  he  loses  nothing 
beside  him  in  fairy-like  grace  and  tenderness  ; 
next  to  him  Paganini,  and,  among  women,  Mme. 
Malibran  ; from  these  Liszt  himself  says  he  has 
learned  the  most.  . . . Liszt’s  most  genial  per- 
formance was  yet  to  come,  Weber’s  6 Concert- 
stuck,’  which  he  played  at  the  second  perform- 
ance. Virtuoso  and  public  seemed  to  be  in  the 
freshest  mood  possible  on  that  evening,  and  the 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


309 


enthusiasm  during  and  after  his  playing  almost 
exceeded  anything  hitherto  known  here.  Al- 
though Liszt  grasped  the  piece  from  the  begin- 
ing  with  such  force  and  grandeur  that  an  attack 
on  the  battle-field  seemed  to  be  in  question,  yet 
he  carried  this  on  with  continually  increasing 
power,  until  the  passage  where  the  player  seems 
to  stand  at  the  summit  of  the  orchestra,  leading 
it  forward  in  triumph.  Here,  indeed,  he  resem- 
bled that  great  commander  to  whom  he  has  been 
compared,  and  the  tempestuous  applause  that 
greeted  him  was  not  unlike  an  adoring  ‘Vive 
1’Empereur.’  ” 

Flattering  to  his  pride,  however,  as  were  the 
universal  honors  bestowed  on  the  artist,  none 
were  so  grateful  as  those  from  his  own  country- 
men. The  philanthropy  of  his  conduct  had  made 
a deep  impression  on  the  Hungarians.  Two  cit- 
ies, Pesth  and  Odenburg,  created  him  an  honorary 
citizen  ; a patent  of  nobility  was  solicited  for  him 
by  the  comitat  of  Odenburg;  and  the  “sword 
of  honor/’  according  to  Hungarian  cutsom,  was 
presented  to  him  with  due  solemnities.  A brief 
account  from  an  Hungarian  journal  of  the  time  is 
of  interest. 

“ The  national  feeling  of  the  Magyars  is  well 
known  ; and  proud  are  they  of  that  star  of  the 
first  magnitude  which  arose  out  of  their  nation. 
Over  the  countries  of  Europe  the  fame  of  the 
Hungarian  Liszt  came  to  them  before  they  had 


310  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

as  yet  an  opportunity  of  admiring  him.  The 
Danube  was  swollen  by  rains,  Pesth  was  inun- 
dated, thousands  were  mourning  the  loss  of 
friends  and  relations  or  of  all  their  property. 
During  his  absence  in  Milan  Liszt  learned  that 
many  of  his  countrymen  were  sulfering  from 
absolute  want.  His  resolution  was  taken.  The 
smiling  heaven  of  Italy,  the  dolce  far  niente  of 
Southern  life,  could  not  detain  him.  The  follow- 
ing morning  he  had  quitted  Milan  and  was  on 
his  way  to  Vienna.  He  performed  for  the  bene- 
fit of  those  who  had  suffered  by  the  inundation 
at  Pesth.  His  art  was  the  horn  of  plenty  from 
which  streamed  forth  blessings  for  the  afflicted. 
Eighteen  months  afterward  he  came  to  Pesth,  not 
as  the  artist  in  search  of  pecuniary  advantage, 
but  as  a Magyar.  He  played  for  the  Hungarian 
national  theatre,  for  the  musical  society,  for  the 
poor  of  Pesth  and  of  Odenburg,  always  before 
crowded  houses,  and  the  proceeds,  fully  one  hun- 
dred thousand  francs,  were  appropriated  for  these 
purposes.  Who  can  wonder  that  admiration  and 
pride  should  arise  to  enthusiasm  in  the  breasts  of 
his  grateful  countrymen  ? He  was  complimented 
by  serenades,  garlands  were  thrown  to  him  ; in 
short,  the  whole  population  of  Pesth  neglected 
nothing  to  manifest  their  respect,  gratitude,  and 
affection.  But  these  honors,  which  might  have 
been  paid  to  any  other  artist  of  high  distinction, 
did  not  satisfy  them.  They  resolved  to  bind  him 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


311 


for  ever  to  tlie  Hungarian  nation  from  which  he 
sprang.  The  token  of  manly  honor  in  Hungary 
is  a sword,  for  every  Magyar  has  the  right  to 
wear  a sword,  and  avails  himself  of  that  right. 
It  was  determined  that  their  celebrated  country- 
man should  be  presented  with  the  Hungarian 
sword  of  honor.  The  noblemen  appeared  at  the 
theatre,  in  the  rich  costume  they  usually  wear 
before  the  emperor,  and  presented  Liszt,  midst 
thunders  of  applause  from  the  whole  assembled 
people,  with  a costly  sword  of  honor.”  It  was 
also  proposed  to  erect  a bronze  statue  of  him  in 
Pesth,  but  Liszt  persuaded  his  countrymen  to 
give  the  money  to  a struggling  young  artist  in- 
stead. 

IV. 

In  the  autumn  of  1840  Liszt  went  from  Paris, 
at  which  city  he  had  been  playing  for  some  time, 
to  the  north  of  Germany,  where  he  at  first  found 
the  people  colder  than  he  had  been  wont  to  expe- 
rience. But  this  soon  disappeared  before  the 
magic  of  his  playing,  and  even  the  Hamburgers, 
notorious  for  a callous,  bovine  temperament,  gave 
wild  demonstrations  of  pleasure  at  his  concerts. 
He  specially  pleased  the  worthy  citizens  by  his 
willingness  to  play  off-hand,  without  notes,  any 
work  which  they  called  for,  a feat  justly  regarded 
as  a stupendous  exercise  of  memory.  From  Ham- 
burg he  went  to  London,  where  he  gave  nine  con- 
certs in  a fortnight,  and  stormed  the  affections  and 
21 


312  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


admiration  of  the  English  public  as  he  had  al- 
ready conquered  the  heart  of  Continental  Europe. 
While  in  London  a calamity  befell  him.  A ras- 
cally agent  in  whom  he  implicitly  trusted  disap- 
peared with  the  proceeds  of  three  hundred  con- 
certs, an  enormous  sum,  amounting  to  nearly  fifty 
thousand  pounds  sterling.  Liszt  bore  this  reverse 
with  cheerful  spirits  and  scorned  the  condolences 
with  which  his  friends  sought  to  comfort  him, 
saying  he  could  easily  make  the  money  again,  that 
his  wealth  was  not  in  money,  but  in  the  power  of 
making  money. 

The  artist’s  musical  wanderings  were  nearly 
without  ceasing.  His  restless  journeying  carried 
him  from  Italy  to  Denmark,  and  from  the  British 
Islands  to  Russia,  and  everywhere  the  art  and  social 
world  bowed  at  his  feet  in  recognition  of  a genius 
which  in  its  way  could  only  be  designated  by  the 
term  '“colossal.”  It  seems  cumbersome  and  mo- 
notonous to  repeat  the  details  of  successive  tri- 
umphs ; but  some  of  them  are  attended  by  feat- 
ures of  peculiar  interest.  He  offered,  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1841,  to  give  the  proceeds  of  a concert  to 
the  completion  of  the  Cathedral  of  Cologne  (who 
that  loves  music  does  not  rememeber  Liszt’s 
setting  of  Heine’s  song  “Im  Rhein,”  where  he 
translates  the  glory  of  the  Cathedral  into  music  ?). 
Liszt  was  then  staying  at  the  island  of  Nonne- 
worth,  near  Bonn,  and  a musical  society,  the 
Liedertafel,  resolved  to  escort  him  up  to  Co- 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


313 


logne  with  due  pomp,  and  so  made  a grand  ex- 
cursion with  a great  company  of  invited  guests 
on  a steamboat  hired  for  the  purpose.  A fine 
band  of  music  greeted  Liszt  on  landing,  and  an 
extensive  banquet  was  then  served,  at  which 
Liszt  made  an  eloquent  speech,  full  of  wit  and 
feeling.  The  artist  acceded  to  the  desire  of  the 
great  congregation  of  people  who  had  gathered 
to  hear  him  play  ; and  his  piano  was  brought 
into  the  ruined  old  chapel  of  the  ancient  nun- 
nery, about  which  so  many  romantic  Rhenish  le- 
gends cluster.  Liszt  gave  a display  of  his  won- 
derful powers  to  the  delighted  multitude,  and  the 
long-deserted  hall  of  Nonneworth  chapel,  which 
for  many  years  had  only  heard  the  melancholy 
call  of  the  owl,  resounded  with  the  most  magnifi- 
cent music.  Finally  the  procession  with  Liszt 
at  the  head  marched  to  the  steamboat,  and  the 
vessel  glided  over  the  bosom  of  the  Rhine  amid 
the  dazzling  glare  of  fireworks  and  to  the  music 
of  singing  and  instruments.  All  Cologne  was 
assembled  to  meet  them,  and  Liszt  was  carried 
on  the  shoulders  of  his  frantic  admirers  to  his 
hotel. 

In  common  with  all  other  great  musicians, 
Liszt  has  throughout  life  been  a reverential  ad- 
mirer of  the  genius  of  Beethoven,  an  isolated 
force  in  music  without  peer  or  parallel.  In  his 
later  years  Liszt  bitterly  reproached  himself  be- 
cause, in  the  vanity  and  impetuosity  of  his  youth. 


314  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


he  had  dared  to  take  liberties  with  the  text  of 
the  Beethoven  sonatas.  Many  interesting  facts 
in  Liszt’s  life  connect  themselves,  directly  or  in- 
directly, with  Beethoven.  Among  these  is  worthy 
of  mention  our  artist’s  part  in  the  Beethoven  fes- 
tival at  Bonn  in  1845,  organized  to  celebrate  the 
erection  of  a colossal  bronze  statue.  The  enter- 
prise had  been  languishing  for  a long  time,  when 
Liszt  promptly  declared  he  would  make  up  the 
deficiency  single-handed,  and  this  he  did  with 
great  celerity.  In  an  incredibly  short  time  the 
money  was  raised,  and  the  commission  put  in  the 
hands  of  the  sculptor  Habnel,  of  Dresden,  one  of 
the  foremost  artists  of  Germany. 

The  programme  for  the  celebration  was  drawn 
up  by  Liszt  and  Dr.  Spohr,  who  were  to  be  the 
joint  conductors  of  the  festival  music.  A thou- 
sand difficulties  intervened  to  embarrass  the  or- 
ganization of  the  affair,  the  jealousies  of  promi- 
nent singers,  who  revolted  against  the  self-efface- 
ment they  would  needs  undergo,  a certain  truly 
German  parsimony  in  raising  the  money  for  the 
expenses,  and  the  envious  littleness  of  certain 
great  composers  and  musicians,  who  feared  that 
Liszt  would  reap  too  much  glory  from  the  promi- 
nence of  the  part  he  had  taken  in  the  affair. 
But  Liszt’s  energy  had  surmounted  all  these 
obstacles,  when  finally,  only  a month  before  the 
festival,  which  was  to  take  place  in  August,  it 
was  discovered  that  there  was  no  suitable  Fest- 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


315 


halle  in  Bonn.  The  committee  said,  “What  if 
the  affair  should  not  pay  expenses  ? would  they 
not  be  personally  saddled  with  the  debt  ? ” Liszt 
promptly  answered  that,  if  the  proceeds  were  not 
sufficient,  he  himself  would  pay  the  cost  of  the 
building.  The  architect  of  the  Cologne  Cathe- 
dral was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  work,  a waste 
plot  of  ground  selected,  the  trees  grubbed  up, 
timber  fished  up  from  one  of  the  great  Rhine 
rafts,  and  the  Festhalle  rose  with  the  swiftness 
of  Aladdin’s  palace.  The  erection  of  the  statue 
of  Beethoven  at  his  birthplace,  and  the  musical 
celebration  thereof  in  August,  1845,  one  of  the 
most  interesting  events  of  its  kind  that  ever  oc- 
curred, must  be,  for  the  most  part,  attributed 
to  the  energy  and  munificence  of  Franz  Liszt. 
Great  personages  were  present  from  all  parts  of 
Europe,  among  them  King  William  of  Prussia 
and  Queen  Victoria  of  England.  Henry  Chorley, 
who  has  given  a pretty  full  description  of  the 
festival,  says  that  Liszt’s  performance  of  Bee- 
thoven’s concerto  in  E flat  was  the  crowning 
glory  of  the  festival,  in  spite  of  the  richness  and 
beauty  of  the  rest  of  the  programme.  “I  must 
lastly  commemorate,  as  the  most  magnificent 
piece  of  piano-forte  playing  I ever  heard,  Dr. 
Liszt’s  delivery  of  the  concerto  in  E flat  .... 
Whereas  its  deliverer  restrained  himself  within 
all  the  limits  that  the  most  sober  classicist  could 
have  prescribed,  he  still  rose  to  a loftiness,  in 


31 6 THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

part  ascribable  to  the  enthusiasm  of  time  and 
place,  in  part  referable  to  a nature  chivalresque, 
proud,  and  poetic  in  no  common  degree,  which 
I have  heard  no  other  instrumentalist  attain. 

. . . The  triumph  in  the  mind  of  the  executant 
sustained  the  triumph  in  the  idea  of  the  composi- 
tions without  strain,  without  spasm,  but  with  a 
breadth  and  depth  and  height  such  as  made  the 
genius  of  the  executant  approach  the  genius  of 
the  inventor.  . . . There  are  players,  there  are 
poets  ; and  as  a poet  Liszt  was  possibly  never  so 
sublimely  or  genuinely  inspired  as  in  that  per- 
formance, which  remains  a bright  and  precious 
thing  in  the  midst  of  all  the  curiously  parti-col- 
ored recollections  of  the  Beethoven  festival  at 
Bonn.’5 

In  1846,  among  Liszt’s  other  musical  experi- 
ences, he  played  in  concerts  with  Berlioz  through- 
out Austria  and  Southern  Germany.  The  im- 
petuous Csechs  and  Magyars  showed  their  hot 
Tartar  blood  in  the  passion  of  enthusiasm  they 
displayed.  Berlioz  relates  that,  at  his  first  con- 
cert at  Pesth,  he  performed  his  celebrated  version 
of  the  “Rakoczy  March,”  and  there  was  such  a 
furious  explosion  of  excitement  that  it  wellnigh 
put  an  end  to  the  concert.  At  the  end  of  the 
performance  Berlioz  was  wiping  the  perspiration 
from  his  face  in  the  little  room  off  the  stage,  when 
the  door  burst  open,  and  a shabbily  dressed  man, 
his  face  glowing  with  a strange  fire,  rushed  in, 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


317 


throwing  himself  at  Berlioz’s  feet,  his  eyes  brim- 
ming with  tears.  He  kissed  the  composer  over 
and  over  again,  and  sobbed  out  brokenly  : “ Ah, 
sir  ! Me  Hungarian  . . . poor  devil  . . . not 
speak  French  . . . nn  poco  Vltaliano . . . . 
Pardon  . . . my  ecstasy  . . . Ah ! understand 
your  cannon  . . . Yes  ! yes  ! the  great  battle 
. . . Germans,  dogs  ! ” Then,  striking  great  blows 
with  his  fists  on  his  chest,  66  In  my  heart  I carry 
yon  ...  A Frenchman,  revolutionist  . . . know 
how  to  write  music  for  revolutions.”  At  a supper 
given  after  the  performance,  Berlioz  tells  us  Liszt 
made  an  inimitable  speech,  and  got  so  gloriously 
be-champagned  that  it  was  with  great  difficulty 
that  he  could  be  restrained  from  pistolling  a Bo- 
hemian nobleman,  at  two  o’clock  in  the  morning, 
who  insisted  that  he  could  carry  off  more  bottles 
under  his  belt  than  Liszt.  But  the  latter  played 
at  a concert  next  day  at  noon  “ assuredly  as  he 
had  never  played  before,”  says  Berlioz. 

Before  passing  from  that  period  of  Liszt’s 
career  which  was  distinctly  that  of  the  virtuoso, 
it  is  proper  to  refer  to  the  unique  character  of  the 
enthusiasm  which  everywhere  followed  his  track 
like  the  turmoil  of  a stormy  sea.  Europe  had  been 
familiar  with  other  great  players,  many  of  them 
consummate  artists,  like  Hummel,  Henri  Herz, 
Czerny,  Kalkbrenner,  Field,  Moscheles,  and  Thal- 
berg,  the  most  brilliant  name  of  them  all.  But 
the  feeling  which  these  performers  aroused  was 


318  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

pale  and  passionless  in  comparison  with  that 
evoked  by  Franz  Liszt.  This  was  not  merely  the 
outcome  of  Liszt  as  a player  and  musician,  but 
of  Liszt  as  a man.  The  man  always  impressed 
people  as  immeasurably  bigger  than  what  he  did, 
great  as  that  was.  His  nature  had  a lavishness 
that  knew  no  bounds.  He  lived  for  every  dis- 
tinguished man  and  beautiful  woman,  and  with 
every  joyous  thing.  He  had  wit  and  sympathy 
to  spare  for  gentle  and  simple,  and  his  kindliness 
was  lavished  with  royal  profusion  on  the  scum  as 
well  as  the  salt  of  the  earth.  This  atmosphere 
of  personal  grandeur  radiated  from  him,  and  in- 
vested his  doings,  musical  and  otherwise,  with 
something  peculiarly  fine  and  fascinating.  And 
then  as  a player  Liszt  rose  above  his  mates  as 
something  of  a different  genius,  a different  race, 
a different  world,  to  every  one  else  who  has  ever 
handled  a piano.  He  is  not  to  be  considered 
among  the  great  composers,  also  pianists,  who 
have  merely  treated  their  instrument  as  an  inter- 
preting medium,  but  as  a poet,  who  executively 
employed  the  piano  as  his  means  of  utterance  and 
material  for  creation.  In  mere  mechanical  skill, 
after  every  one  else  has  ended,  Liszt  had  still 
something  to  add,  carrying  every  man’s  discovery 
further.  If  he  was  surpassed  by  Thalberg  in  rich- 
ness of  sound,  he  surpassed  Thalberg  by  a variety 
of  tone  of  which  the  redoubtable  Viennese  player 
had  no  dream.  He  had  his  delicate,  light,  freak- 


FRANZ  LIZST. 


819 


ish  moods  in  which  he  might  stand  for  another 
Chopin  in  qualities  of  fancy,  sentiment,  and  faery 
brilliancy.  In  sweep  of  hand  and  rapidity  of 
linger,  in  fire  and  fineness  of  execution,  in  that 
interweaving  of  exquisite  momentary  fancies 
where  the  work  admits,  in  a memory  so  vast  as 
to  seem  almost  superhuman  ; in  that  lightning 
quickness  of  view,  enabling  him  to  penetrate  in- 
stantaneously the  meaning  of  a new  composition, 
and  to  light  it  up  properly  with  its  own  inner 
spirit  (some  touch  of  his  own  brilliancy  added)  ; 
briefly,  in  a mastery,  complete,  spontaneous,  en- 
joying and  giving  enjoyment,  over  every  style  and 
school  of  music,  all  those  who  have  heard  Liszt 
assert  that  he  is  unapproached  among  players  and 
the  traditions  of  players. 

In  a letter  from  Berlioz  to  Liszt,  the  writer 
gives  us  a vivid  idea  of  the  great  virtuoso’s  play- 
ing and  its  effects.  Berlioz  is  complaining  of  the 
difficulties  which  hamper  the  giving  of  orchestral 
concerts.  After  rehearsing  his  mishaps,  he  says  : 
66  After  all,  of  what  use  is  such  information  to 
you  ? You  can  say  with  confidence,  changing  the 
mot  of  Louis  XIV,  ‘ “ L’orchestre,  c’est  moi / le 
chceur , c’est  moi ; le  chef  c’est  encore  moi”  My 
piano-forte  sings,  dreams,  explodes,  resounds  ; it 
defies  the  flight  of  the  most  skillful  forms  ; it  has, 
like  the  orchestra,  its  brazen  harmonies  ; like  it, 
and  without  the  least  preparation,  it  can  give  to 
the  evening  breeze  its  cloud  of  fairy,  chords  and 


320  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


vague  melodies.  I need  neither  theatre,  nor  box 
scene,  nor  much  staging.  I have  not  to  tire 
myself  out  at  long  rehearsals.  I want  neither  a 
hundred,  fifty,  nor  twenty  players.  I do  not  even 
need  any  music.  A grand  hall,  a grand  piano- 
forte, and  I am  master  of  a grand  audience.  I 
show  myself  and  am  applauded  ; my  memory 
awakens,  dazzling  fantasies  grow  beneath  my  fin- 
gers. Enthusiastic  acclamations  answer  them.  I 
sing  Schubert’s  “Ave  Maria,”  or  Beethoven’s 
“Adelaida”  on  the  piano,  and  all  hearts  tend 
toward  me,  all  breasts  hold  their  breath.  . . . Then 
come  luminous  bombs,  the  banquet  of  this  grand 
firework,  and  the  cries  of  the  public,  and  the 
flowers  and  the  crowns  that  rain  around  the  priest 
of  harmony,  shuddering  on  his  tripod  ; and  the 
young  beauties,  who,  all  in  tears,  in  their  divine 
confusion  kiss  the  hem  of  his  cloak ; and  the  sin- 
cere homage  drawn  from  serious  minds  and  the 
feverish  applause  torn  from  many  ; the  lofty  brows 
that  bow  down,  and  the  narrow  hearts,  marvel- 
ing to  find  themselves  expanding  ’.  . . . It  is  a 
dream,  one  of  those  golden  dreams  one  has  when 
one  is  called  Liszt  or  Paganini.” 

That  such  a man  as  this,  brilliant  in  wit,  ex- 
travagant in  habit  and  opinion,  courted  for  his 
personal  fascination  by  every  one  greatest  in 
rank  and  choicest  in  intellect  from  his  prodig- 
ious youth  to  his  ripe  manhood,  should  suddenly 
cease  from  display  at  the  moment  when  his  popu- 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


321 


larity  was  at  its  highest,  when  no  rival  was  in 
being,  is  a remarkable  trait  in  Dr.  Franz  Liszt’s 
remarkable  life.  But  this  he  did  in  1849,  by  set- 
tling in  Weimar  as  conductor  of  the  court  thea- 
tre, his  age  then  being  thirty-eight  years. 

y. 

Liszt  closed  his  career  as  a virtuoso,  and  ac- 
cepted a permanent  engagement  at  Weimar,  with 
the  distinct  purpose  of  becoming  identified  with 
the  new  school  of  music  which  was  beginning  to 
express  itself  so  remarkably  through  Richard 
Wagner.  His  new  position  enabled  him  to  bring 
works  before  the  world  which  would  otherwise 
have  had  but  little  chance  of  seeing  the  light  of 
day, -and  he  rapidly  produced  at  brief  intervals 
eleven  works,  either  for  the  first  time,  or  else  re- 
vived from  what  had  seemed  a dead  failure. 
Among  these  works  were  “Lohengrin,”  “ Rienzi,” 
and  “Tannhauser”  by  Wagner,  “Benvenuto 
Cellini”  by  Berlioz,  and  Schumann’s  “Geno- 
veva,”  and  music  to  Byron’s  “Manfred.”  Liszt’s 
new  departure  and  the  extraordinary  band  of 
artists  he  drew  around  him  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  world  of  music,  and  Weimar  became  a 
great  musical  center,  even  as  in  the  days  of  Goethe 
it  had  been  a visiting  shrine  for  the  literary  pil- 
grims of  Europe.  Thus  a nucleus  of  bold  and 
enthusiastic  musicians  was  formed  whose  mission 
it  was  to  preach  the  gospel  of  the  new  musical  faith. 


322  tiie  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

Richard  Wagner  says  that,  after  the  revolution 
of  1849,  when  he  was  compelled  to  fly  for  his  life, 
he  was  thoroughly  disheartened  as  an  artist,  and 
that  all  thought  of  musical  creativeness  was  dead 
within  him.  From  this  stagnation  he  wTas  res- 
cued by  a friend,  and  that  friend  was  Franz 
Liszt.  Let  us  tell  the  story  in  Wagner’s  own 
words  : 

“I  met  Liszt  for  the  first  time  during  my 
earliest  stay  in  Paris,  at  a period  when  I had  re- 
nounced the  hope,  nay,  even  a wish  of  a Paris 
reputation,  and,  indeed,  was  in  a state  of  internal 
revolt  against  the  artistic  life  which  I found 
there.  At  our  meeting  he  struck  me  as  the  most 
perfect  contrast  to  my  own  being  and  situation. 
In  this  world  into  which  it  had  been  my  desire 
to  fly  from  my  narrow  circumstances,  Liszt  had 
grown  up  from  his  earliest  age  so  as  to  be  the 
object  of  general  love  and  admiration  at  a time 
when  I was  repulsed  by  general  coldness  and 
want  of  sympathy.  In  consequence,  I looked 
upon  him  with  suspicion.  I had  no  opportunity 
of  disclosing  my  being  and  working  to  him,  and 
therefore  the  reception  I met  with  on  his  part 
was  of  a superficial  kind,  as  was  indeed  natural 
in  a man  to  whom  every  day  the  most  divergent 
impressions  claimed  access.  But  I was  not  in  a 
mood  to  look  with  unprejudiced  eyes  for  the  nat- 
ural cause  of  this  behavior,  which,  though  friendly 
and  obliging  in  itself,  could  not  but  wound  mo 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


323 


in  the  then  state  of  my  mind.  I never  repeated 
my  first  call  on  Liszt,  and,  without  knowing  or 
even  wishing  to  know  him,  I was  prone  to  look 
on  him  as  strange  and  adverse  to  my  nature. 
My  repeated  expression  of  this  feeling  was  after- 
ward told  to  him,  just  at  the  time  when  my 
“ Kienzi  ” at  Dresden  was  attracting  general  at- 
tion.  He  was  surprised  to  find  himself  mis- 
understood with  such  violence  by  a man  whom 
he  had  scarcely  known,  and  whose  acquaintance 
now  seemed  not  without  value  to  him.  I am 
still  moved  when  I think  of  the  repeated  and 
eager  attempts  he  made  to  change  my  opinion  of 
him,  even  before  he  knew  any  of  my  works.  He 
acted  not  from  any  artistic  sympathy,  but  led  by 
the  purely  human  wish  of  discontinuing  a casual 
disharmony  between  himself  and  another  being ; 
perhaps  he  also  felt  an  infinitely  tender  misgiv- 
ing of  having  really  hurt  me  unconsciously.  He 
who  knows  the  selfishness  and  terrible  insensibil- 
ity of  our  social  life,  and  especially  of  the  relations 
of  modern  artists  to  each  other,  can  not  be  struck 
with  wonder,  nay,  delight,  with  the  treatment  I 
received  from  this  remarkable  man.  ...  At 
Weimar  I saw  him  for  the  last  time,  when  I was 
resting  for  a few  days  in  Thuringia,  uncertain 
whether  the  threatening  persecution  wrould  com- 
pel me  to  continue  my  flight  from  Germany.  The 
very  day  when  my  personal  danger  became  a cer- 
tainty, I saw  Liszt  conducting  a rehearsal  of  my 


324  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

‘Tannhauser/  and  was  astonished  at  recogniz- 
ing my  second  self  in  his  achievement.  What 
I had  felt  in  inventing  this  music,  he  felt  in  per- 
forming it ; what  I had  wanted  to  express  in 
writing  it  down,  he  expressed  in  making  it  sound. 
Strange  to  say,  through  the  love  of  this  rarest 
friend,  1 gained,  at  the  very  moment  of  becoming 
homeless,  a real  home  for  my  art  which  I had 
hitherto  longed  for  and  sought  for  in  the  wrong 
place.  ...  At  the  end  of  my  last  stay  in  Paris, 
when,  ill,  miserable,  and  despairing,  I sat  brood- 
ing over  my  fate,  my  eye  fell  on  the  score  of 
my  ‘ Lohengrin/  which  I had  totally  forgotten. 
Suddenly  I felt  something  like  compassion  that 
this  music  should  never  sound  from  off  the  death- 
pale  paper.  Two  words  I wrote  to  Liszt ; the 
answer  was  that  preparation  was  being  made  for 
the  performance  on  the  grandest  scale  which  the 
limited  means  of  Weimar  permitted.  Every- 
thing that  man  or  circumstances  could  do  was 
done  to  make  the  work  understood.  . . . Errors 
and  misconceptions  impeded  the  desired  success. 
What  was  to  be  done  to  supply  what  was  want- 
ed, so  as  to  further  the  true  understanding  on  all 
sides  and,  with  it,  the  ultimate  success  of  the 
work  ? Liszt  saw  it  at  once,  and  did  it.  He 
gave  to  the  public  his  own  impression  of  the 
work  in-  a manner  the  convincing  eloquence  and 
overpowering  efficacy  of  which  remain  unequaled. 
Success  was  his  reward,  and  with  this  success  he 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


325 


now  approaches  me,  saying,  6 Behold,  we  have 
come  so  far  ! Now  create  us  a new  work,  that 
we  may  go  still  farther.’  ” 

Liszt  remained  at  Weimar  for  ten  years,  when 
he  resigned  his  place  on  account  of  certain  narrow 
jealousies  and  opposition  ottered  to  his  plans. 
Since  1859  he  has  lived  at  Weimar,  Pesth,  and 
Borne,  always  the  center  of  a circle  of  pupils  and 
admirers,  and,  though  no  longer  occupying  an 
active  place  in  the  world,  full  of  unselfish  devotion 
to  the  true  interests  of  music  and  musicians.  In 
1868  he  took  minor  orders  in  the  Roman  priest- 
hood. Since  his  early  youth  Liszt  had  been  the 
subject  of  strong  paroxysms  of  religious  feeling, 
which  more  than  once  had  nearly  carried  him  into 
monastic  life,  and  thus  his  brilliant  career  would 
have  been  lost  to  the  world  and  to  art.  After  he 
had  gained  every  reward  that  can  be  lavished  on 
genius,  and  tasted  to  the  very  dregs  the  wine  of 
human  happiness,  so  far  as  that  can  come  of  a 
splendid  prosperity  and  the  adoration  of  the  mu- 
sical world  for  nearly  half  a century,  a sudden 
revulsion  seems  to  have  recalled  again  to  the  sur- 
face that  profound  religious  passion  which  the 
glory  and  pleasure  of  his  busy  life  had  never 
entirely  suppressed.  It  was  by  no  means  aston- 
ishing to  those  who  knew  Liszt’s  life  best  that  he 
should  have  taken  holy  orders. 

Abbe  Liszt  lives  a portion  of  each  year  with 
the  Prince-Cardinal  Hohenlohe,  in  the  well-known 


326  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

Villa  d'Este,  near  Rome,  a chateau  with  whose 
history  much  romance  is  interwoven.  He  is  said 
to  be  very  zealous  in  his  religious  devotions,  and 
to  spend  much  time  in  reading  and  composing. 
He  rarely  touches  the  piano,  unless  inspired  by 
the  presence  of  visitors  whom  he  thoroughly 
likes,  and  even  in  such  cases  less  for  his  own 
pleasure  than  for  the  gratification  of  his  friends. 
Even  his  intimate  friends  would  hardly  venture 
to  ask  Liszt  to  play.  His  summer  months  are 
divided  between  Pesth  and  Weimar,  where  his 
advent  always  makes  a glad  commotion  among 
the  artistic  circles  of  these  respective  cities.  Of 
the  various  pupils  who  have  been  formed  by  Liszt, 
Hans  von  Biilow,  who  married  his  daughter  Cosi- 
ma,  is  the  most  distinguished,  and  shares  with 
Rubenstein  the  honor  of  being  the  first  of  Euro- 
pean pianists,  now  that  Liszt  has  for  so  long  a 
time  withdrawn  himself  from  the  field  of  com- 
petition. 

VI. 

Liszt  has  been  a very  industrious  and  prolific 
writer,  his  works  numbering  thirty-one  composi- 
tions for  the  orchestra  ; seven  for  the  piano-forte 
and  orchestra  ; two  for  piano  and  violin  ; nine  for 
the  organ ; thirteen  masses,  psalms,  and  other 
sacred  music  ; two  oratorios  ; fifteen  cantatas  and 
chorals  ; sixty-three  songs  ; and  one  hundred  and 
seventy-nine  works  for  the  piano-forte  proper.  The 
bulk  of  these  compositions,  the  most  important  of 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


327 


them  at  least,  were  produced  in  the  first  forty 
years  of  his  life,  and  testify  to  enormous  energy 
and  capacity  for  work,  as  they  came  into  being 
during  his  active  period  as  a virtuoso.  In  addi- 
tion to  his  musical  works,  Liszt  has  shown  distin- 
guished talent  in  letters,  and  his  articles  and  pam- 
phlets, notably  the  monographs  on  Robert  Franz, 
Chopin,  and  the  Music  of  the  Gypsies,  indicate 
that,  had  he  not  chosen  to  devote  himself  to  mu- 
sic, he  might  have  made  himself  an  enviable  name 
in  literature. 

Perhaps  no  better  characterization  of  Liszt 
could  be  made  than  to  call  him  the  musical  Victor 
Hugo  of  his  age.  In  both  these  great  men  we 
find  the  same  restless  and  burning  imagination,  a 
quickness  of  sensibility  easily  aroused  to  vehe- 
mence, a continual  reaching  forward  toward  the 
new  and  untried  and  impatience  of  the  old,  the 
same  great  versatility,  the  same  unequaled  com- 
mand of  all  the  resources  of  their  respective 
crafts,  and,  until  within  the  last  twenty  years,  the 
same  ceaseless  fecundity.  Of  Liszt  as  a player  it 
is  not  necessary  to  speak  further.  Suffice  it  that 
he  is  acknowledged  to  have  been,  while  pursuing 
the  path  of  the  virtuoso,  not  only  great,  but  the 
greatest  in  the  records  of  art,  with  the  possible 
exception  of  Paganini.  To  the  possession  of  a 
technique  which  united  all  the  best  qualities  of 
other  players,  carrying  each  a step  further,  he 
added  a powerful  and  passionate  imagination 
22 


328  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


which  illuminated  the  work  before  him.  Wagner 
wrote  of  him  : “ He  who  has  had  frequent  oppor- 
tunities, particularly  in  a friendly  circle,  of  hear- 
ing Liszt  play,  for  instance,  Beethoven,  must  have 
understood  that  this  was  not  mere  reproduction, 
but  production.  The  actual  point  of  division 
between  these  two  things  is  not  so  easily  deter- 
mined as  most  people  believe,  but  so  much  I have 
ascertained  without  a doubt,  that,  in  order  to  re- 
produce Beethoven,  one  must  produce  with  him.” 
It  was  this  quality  which  made  Liszt  such  a vital 
interpreter  of  other  composers,  as  well  as  such  a 
brilliant  performer  of  his  own  works.  As  a com- 
poser for  the  piano  Franz  Liszt  has  been  accused 
of  sacrificing  substantial  charm  of  motive  for  the 
creation  of  the  most  gigantic  technical  difficulties, 
designed  for  the  display  of  his  own  skill.  This 
charge  is  best  answered  by  a study  of  his  tran- 
scriptions of  songs  and  symphonies,  which,  diffi- 
cult in  an  extreme  degree,  are  yet  rich  in  no  less 
excess  with  musical  thought  and  fullness  of  mu- 
sical color.  He  transcribed  the  “fitudes”  of  Pa- 
ganini, it  is  true,  as  a sort  of  tour  deforce,  and  no 
one  has  dared  to  attempt  them  in  the  concert 
room  but  himself ; but  for  the  most  part  Liszt’s 
piano-forte  writings  are  full  of  substance  in  their 
being  as  well  as  splendid  elaboration  in  their 
form.  This  holds  good  no  less  of  the  purely 
original  compositions,  like  the  concertos  and 
“ Rhapsodies  Hongroises,”  than  of  the  transcrip- 


FRANZ  LISZT. 


320 


tions  and  paraphrases  of  the  Lied , the  opera,  and 
symphony. 

As  a composer  for  the  orchestra  Liszt  has 
spent  the  ripest  period  of  his  life,  and  attained  a 
deservedly  high  rank.  His  symphonies  belong  to 
what  has  been  called,  for  want  of  a better  name, 
“programme  music,”  or  music  which  needs  the 
key  of  the  story  or  legend  to  explain  and  justify 
the  composition.  This  classification  may  yet  be 
very  misleading.  Liszt  does  not,  like  Berlioz,  refer 
every  feature  of  the  music  to  a distinct  event, 
emotion,  or  dramatic  situation,  but  concerns  him- 
self chiefly  with  the  pictorial  and  symbolic  bear- 
ings of  his  subject.  For  example,  the  “ Mazeppa  ” 
symphony,  based  on  Victor  Hugo’s  poem,  gets  its 
significance,  not  in  view  of  its  description  of  Ma- 
zeppa’s  peril  and  rescue,  but  because  this  famous 
ride  becomes  the  symbol  of  man:  “ Lie  vivant 
sur  la  croupe  fatale , Genie , ardent  Coursier” 
The  spiritual  life  of  this  thought  burns  with  sub- 
tile suggestions  throughout  the  whole  symphony. 

Liszt  has  not  been  merely  a devoted  adherent 
of  the  “ Music  of  the  Future  ” as  expressed  in 
operatic  form,  but  he  has  embodied  his  belief  in 
the  close  alliance  of  poetry  and  music  in  his  sym- 
phonies and  transcriptions  of  songs.  Anything 
more  pictorial,  vivid,  descriptive,  and  passionate 
can  not  easily  be  fancied.  It  is  proper  also  to 
say  in  passing  that  the  composer  shows  a com- 
mand over  the  resources  of  the  orchestra  similar 


330  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


to  his  mastery  of  the  piano,  though  at  times  a 
tendency  to  violent  and  strident  effects  offends  the 
ear.  Franz  Liszt,  take  him  for  all  in  all,  must 
he  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of 
the  last  half  century,  a personality  so  stalwart, 
picturesque,  and  massive  as  to  be  not  only  a land- 
mark in  music,  but  an  imposing  figure  to  those 
not  specially  characterized  by  their  musical  sym- 
pathies. His  influence  on  his  art  has  been  deep 
and  widespread ; his  connection  with  some  of  the 
most  important  movements  of  the  last  two  gen- 
erations well  marked ; and  his  individuality  a 
fact  of  commanding  force  in  the  art  circles  of 
nearly  every  country  of  Europe,  where  art  bears 
any  vital  connection  with  social  and  public  life. 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  of  ILLINOIS. 


ANTON  GREGORIEVITCH  RUBINSTEIN. 


EUBINSTEIN. 


The  Striking  Personality  of  the  Man. — His  Early  Training. — 
Self-support  and  Independence. — Court  Pianist. — Founding 
of  the  Great  Russian  Conservatory. — The  American  Tour. — 
The  Rival  of  Liszt. — Characteristics  as  a Player. — Estimate 
of  Rubinstein  as  a Composer. 

Many  of  the  giants  in  music  have  borne  the 
stamp  of  a salient  personality  molded  in  the  fea- 
tures of  the  face  and  etched  in  its  lines.  What 
was  true  of  Gluck,  Handel,  Beethoven,  Liszt,  Wag- 
ner, and  Gounod  is  not  less  true  of  Rubinstein. 
The  resemblance  of  the  great  Russian,  indeed,  to 
Beethoven  is  so  marked  as  to  provoke  comment. 
The  same  rugged  features  with  compressed  lips 
and  massive  chin,  the  same  square,  beetling  brow, 
the  same  brooding  eyes,  which  look  at  us  from  a 
Beethoven  portrait,  became  familiar  to  thousands 
of  Americans  twenty  years  since.  The  personal 
force  of  temperament  streams  from  the  fingers  of 
the  human  battery  into  Rubinstein’s  art-work 
and  makes  it  electric,  as  so  many  of  us  will  recall 
with  a tingle  of  reminiscent  pleasure.  Rubinstein 
the  player  is  more  than  mere  interpreter.  Crea- 
tive passion  always  vitalizes,  sometimes  distorts, 
his  readings,  but  sets  him  apart  from  other  vir- 
tuosi. He  himself  disdains  the  title  of  virtuoso, 
insisting  that  he  plays  only  as  a musician,  for, 


334  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


was  his  teacher  in  the  theory  of  music.  His  broth- 
er Nicholas,  who  also  became  a noted  musician  and 
head  of  the  St.  Petersburg  Conservatory,  shared  his 
pupilage.  Anton  saw  much  of  Mendelssohn  and 
Meyerbeer,  who  took  a keen  interest  in  his  future 
and  visited  his  family ; and  his  first  composition, 
an  etude  for  the  piano,  was  now  published,  get- 
ting a cordial  notice  from  Robert  Schumann. 
When  the  Rubinstein  family  returned  to  Russia 
in  1846,  Anton,  then  sixteen  years  old,  launched 
his  bark  on  the  stormy  seas  of  self-support.  He 
went  to  Vienna,  most  musical  of  cities,  gave  piano 
lessons,  took  concert  engagements  when  he  could, 
and  suffered  the  vicissitudes  of  Bohemia,  pretty 
much  the  same  in  all  lands — champagne  and 
truffles  one  day,  beer  and  pretzels  the  next.  But 
he  worked  hard  at  composition,  though  an  occa- 
sional “opus”  only  found  a publisher,  and  took 
the  medicine  of  life  with  a dauntless  heart.  One 
day  there  was  not  a kreutzer  in  his  purse,  when 
Liszt,  followed  by  a retinue  of  his  courtiers,  a 
prince,  a count,  a doctor,  and  an  artist  in  train, 
burst  into  his  attic  and  whirled  off  the  starveling 
artist  to  a splendid  dinner.  He  returned  that 
night  with  money  in  his  pocket  and  hope  in  his 
soul. 

The  great  historic  year  1848,  when  all  Eu- 
rope was  heaving  with  revolutionary  yeast,  found 
Rubinstein  back  in  Berlin,  and  among  other  cu- 
rious sights  he  saw  little,  old,  weazened  Dehn,  his 


RUBINSTEIN. 


335 


former  teacher,  doing  sentry  duty  with  a musket 
much  longer  than  himself  before  a government 
building.  He  confided  to  Dehn  the  project  over 
which  he  had  been  brooding  for  a year — emigra- 
tion to  the  United  States.  “ Are  you  mad?” 
dissuaded  the  great  contrapuntist ; “ is  there  noth- 
ing to  do  in  Europe,  you  still  a lad,  that  you 
should  rush  recklessly  to  a land  of  art-savages, 
where  you  are  likely  to  meet  all  kinds  of  misfor- 
tunes ? ” As  Berlin  proved  a worse  step-mother 
than  Vienna,  Rubinstein  packed  his  clothes  and 
music-scores  and  set  out  for  the  Russian  frontier. 
He  did  not  meet  a kiss  of  welcome.  The  “ third 
section  ” was  in  a frenzy  of  suspicion,  and  mou - 
cliards  swarmed  everywhere.  His  passport  for 
some  reason  had  been  left  behind,  and  he  was  sent 
to  the  capital  under  arrest.  His  trunks  revealed 
strange  documents,  scrawled  with  hieroglyphics, 
and  the  chief  of  police  was  with  difficulty  per- 
suaded that  the  queer  manuscript  did  not  conceal 
conspiracy  and  high-treason. 

Rubinstein  now  settled  down  quietly  to  his  life- 
work — teaching,  composing,  and  playing  in  concert 
with  steadily  growing  success.  He  was  taken  up 
by  the  imperial  family,  and  Grand-Duchess  Helena 
Paulovna,  sister  of  Nicholas,  became  his  enthusi- 
astic patroness  and  warm  personal  friend.  He  was 
an  intimate  at  the  Winter  Palace,  and  gave  cham- 
ber recitals  there  every  week.  While  he  taught 
the  most  distinguished  pupils,  he  did  not  disdain 


336  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

the  humble,  taking  as  fee  what  each  could  afford. 
This  characteristic  benevolence  has  stamped  his 
whole  life  ; and  it  was  stated  that,  at  the  time 
he  undertook  his  American  tour,  he  had  given 
away  nearly  all  the  proceeds  of  his  concertizing — 
nearly  three  hundred  thousand  rubles — in  charity. 
Thus  twenty  quiet  and  fruitful  years  passed,  inter- 
spersed with  frequent  professional  tours  through- 
out Europe,  where  his  fame  as  a great  player  grew 
till  it  equaled  that  of  Franz  Liszt,  while  his  operas 
and  symphonies  stamped  his  genius  as  a composer, 
though  the  former  have  rather  delighted  musicians 
than  the  general  public,  and  provoked  serious  criti- 
cism even  from  those  who  concede  his  great  and 
original  powers.  It  has  always  been  a grief  to 
Rubinstein  that  the  consensus  of  opinion  about 
the  player  has  not  extended  to  the  composer — a 
sorrow  which,  perhaps,  has  sometimes  dipped  his 
pen  in  gall,  and  betrayed  his  native  generosity  of 
temper. 

It  was  while  staying  with  the  imperial  family 
at  Nice,  in  the  winter  of  1856— ’57,  that  the  chaos 
of  musical  culture  in  Russia,  being  the  topic  under 
discussion  one  night,  suggested  to  Rubinstein  the 
notion  of  reorganizing  musical  education.  On  his 
return,  he  and  a few  others,  with  the  heartiest 
backing  from  the  court,  founded  the  Imperial 
Russian  Society,  and  this  again  within  a few  years 
became  the  mother  of  the  St.  Petersburg  and  Mos- 
cow Conservatories,  now  ranking  among  the  great 


RUBINSTEIN. 


337 


institutions  of  the  world.  Both  Rubinstein  and 
his  brother  Nicholas  were  at  different  periods 
heads  of  the  St.  Petersburg  school,  at  which  were 
graduated  not  a few  who  became  famous,  notably 
Tschaikowsky  and  Madame  Essipov.  When  Anton 
Rubinstein  signed  his  American  contract  in  1872, 
he  was  still  a poor  man,  owing  to  his  prodigal 
giving,  and  it  is  pleasant  to  know  that  the  fifty 
thousand  dollars  he  received  laid  the  foundation 
of  his  present  independence.  He  was  associated 
with  another  artist,  eminent  as  a violinist,  the  late 
Henri  Wieniawski,  then  professor  at  the  Brussels 
Conservatoire.  This  American  tour  was  brilliantly 
successful,  and  the  eclat  of  his  performances  has 
never  been  surpassed  in  the  musical  excitement 
created,  though  a more  recent  player  has  achieved 
larger  financial  returns.  Rubinstein  gave  two 
hundred  and  fifteen  concerts  in  the  United  States, 
but  seems  to  have  been  devoured  with  a deep  ennui 
during  his  long  journeys.  He  says : “ It  was  so 
tedious  that  I began  to  despise  myself  and  my  art. 
So  profound  was  my  dissatisfaction  that,  when 
several  years  later  I was  asked  to  repeat  my  Ameri- 
can tour  with  half  a million  guaranteed  to  me,  I 
refused  point  blank.”  Rubinstein  ranks  musical 
knowledge  and  appreciation  in  America  as  higher 
than  those  of  England.  The  writer  of  this  sketch 
asked  him  what  he  thought  of  the  chances  of  an 
American  school  of  music.  His  answer  was  epi- 
grammatic and  suggestive : “ A national  musical 


338  THE  great  violinists  and  pianists. 


cult  can  not  exist  unless  its  roots  grow  from  a 
national  childhood.  America  had  no  childhood. 
Its  civilization  was  born  full-grown.”  Since  his 
return  to  Europe  Rubinstein  has  divided  his  life, 
as  before,  with  no  very  notable  happenings,  be- 
tween the  St.  Petersburg  Conservatory,  composing, 
and  concert-playing. 

It  is  probable  that  posterity  will  assign  a higher 
rank  to  his  work  as  a composer  than  his  contem- 
poraries allow.  This  was  the  fate  of  the  two 
supremely  gifted  men,  Beethoven  and  Schubert. 
It  is  as  the  pianist  that  Rubinstein  is  most  ad- 
mired to-day.  Here  he  may  be  regarded  as  bear- 
ing the  scepter  amid  a swarm  of  gifted  rivals. 
His  distinction  as  a player  is  found  in  the  indi- 
vidual passion  and  poetry  which  permeate  his  read- 
ings, interpretation  glowing  sometimes  to  incan- 
descence with  imaginative  power,  so  pictorial  and 
stimulating  indeed  that  the  obtuse  spirit  is  swept 
away  by  its  magic  no  less  than  the  sensitive  mu- 
sician. Small-minded  pedants  have  pecked  feebly 
at  his  interpretations  as  sometimes  arbitrary,  or 
false  to  the  composer’s  design.  Let  it  be  so,  as 
long  as  the  artist  sets  us  on  his  own  pedestal  and 
makes  us  see  with  the  clairvoyance  of  his  own 
vision.  A single  illustration  may  be  cited  out  of 
a score — the  rendering  of  Chopin’s  B minor  so- 
nata. The  funeral- march  movement  is  made  to 
begin  in  the  most  fairy-like  pianissimo , as  of  a 
band  playing  in  the  far  distance.  The  gradual 


RUBINSTEIN. 


339 


crescendo  of  the  music  approaching  finally  swells 
into  a fortissimo , and  thence  again  graduates 
subtly  into  the  mutter  of  distant  sound.  The 
movement  which  follows  this  march  has  always 
perplexed  musicians  as  chaotic  and  meaningless. 
Rubinstein,  however,  fills  us  with  shivers  of  de- 
light in  his  weird  reading,  and  the  experience  of 
something  analogous  to  what  he  says  he  sees  and 
hears  in  playing  it — “ the  vision  of  moonlit  graves 
in  the  cemetery  and  the  wailing  of  the  breeze  in 
the  cypresses.”  If  all  this  is  trickery,  it  is  the 
trickery  of  the  transcendent  artist.  The  inter- 
pretation is  that  of  the  poet,  not  of  the  peda- 
gogue. 

The  catalogue  of  Rubinstein’s  compositions 
bears  witness  to  the  versatility  of  his  genius,  in- 
cluding thirteen  operas,  two  oratorios,  five  sym- 
phonies, a dozen  overtures,  many  trios  and  quar- 
tettes, and  half  a hundred  songs.  Gifted  with 
great  affluence  of  melody,  his  motifs , though  fre- 
quently Russo- Oriental  in  spirit,  do  not  seem  to 
have  been  drawn  to  any  large  extent  from  the 
wealth  of  national  folk-song,  as  his  own  country- 
men— Glinka  and  Tschaikowsky — so  freely  bor- 
rowed from  this  “ Dragon’s  Hoard  ” of  treasure ; 
as  Weber  and  Schubert  used  that  of  Teuton-land  ; 
as  Rossini,  the  Italian  ; or  Liszt,  the  Hungarian 
Gypsy;  or  Grieg,  the  Norwegian;  or  Dvorak,  the 
Czech.  This  is  the  more  singular  as  Rubinstein 
is  intensely  Panslavic  in  his  views,  and  says  of 


340  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

this  beautiful  people’s  music : “ Russian  folk-sougs 
stand  alone;  only  those  of  Norway  and  Sweden 
are  worthy  to  be  compared  with  them  for  enchant- 
ing melody.” 

Rubinstein  is  ever  lyrical,  however,  in  his  mu- 
sical impulse,  and  not  dramatic,  and  he  shares  the 
strongly  avowed  feeling  of  Brahms,  his  great  Ger- 
man contemporary,  that  the  true  object  of  music 
begins  where  words  end.  His  devotion  to  the  old 
classical  forms  has  limited  his  development  along 
the  lines  where  music  has  made  its  greatest  recent 
advances.  This  laudator  temporis  acti  tells  us 
that  “ with  the  supremacy  of  Bismarck  on  the  one 
hand  and  Wagnerism  on  the  other,  with  men’s 
ideals  all  reversed,  dawns  the  critical  moment  for 
music.  Technique  has  taken  gigantic  strides,  but 
composition,  to  speak  frankly,  has  come  to  an  end. 
Its  parting  knell  was  rung  when  the  last  incom- 
parable notes  of  Chopin  died  away.”  (This,  of 
course,  more  specially  refers  to  the  music  of  the 
piano.) 

Closely  adhering  to  traditional  forms,  into 
which  the  composer  pours  an  embarras  de  richesses 
of  melody,  there  is  a lack  of  the  compression  and 
self-criticism  which  stamp  the  highest  works  of 
art.  This  is  less  noticeable  in  the  symphonies, 
three  of  which — the  “ Ocean,”  “ Dramatic,”  and 
“ Russian  ” — rank  among  the  greatest  compositions 
in  symmetry  of  form  and  richness  of  coloring. 
The  concertos  and  sonatas  are  favorites  in  the  con- 


RUBINSTEIN. 


341 


cert-room,  and  many  of  the  songs  are  deliciously 
fresh  in  motive  and  treatment.  The  best  known 
of  his  operas  are  the  “ Demon  ” and  the  “ Macca- 
bees,” which  have  been  frequently  given  in  Russia 
and  Germany,  but  are  not  much  known  in  other 
countries  except  in  piano  transcriptions.  His  op- 
eratic work,  affluent  in  melody  and  wrought  with 
orchestral  mastership,  seems  to  lack  the  poignant 
accents  of  dramatic  passion.  Rubinstein  has  in- 
dulged in  controversy,  and  his  “ Die  Musik  und 
Ihre  Meister  ” is  a quaint  masterpiece  of  invective, 
while  his  “ image-breaking  ” rages  against  nearly 
all  the  composers  except  Gluck,  Bach,  Beethoven, 
Schubert,  Schumann,  Mendelssohn,  and  Chopin. 
Wagner  is  his  bete  noir , and  his  satire  amuses  with 
its  clever  sword-play  without  disturbing  our  con- 
victions.  Let  whatever  one  may  think  of  Rubin- 
stein the  composer  and  critic,  the  world’s  hail  of 
“ Vivat  rex ! ” acclaims  Rubinstein  the  player  as 
the  artist,  who  above  all  others  carries  the  soul  of 
an  indomitable  and  shaping  genius  into  the  forms 
left  by  others.  It  is  a matter  of  poignant  regret 
that  this  great  artist  has  definitely  declared  his 
resolution  to  play  no  more  in  public  concert  ex- 
cept for  purposes  of  charity. 


BULOW. 


A King  of  Interpreters.— His  Peculiar  Equipment  as  a Player.— 
Bred  to  the  Law,  he  becomes  a Pianist. — Association  with 
Liszt  and  Wagner. — Enthusiastic  Propaganda  of  the  Music  of 
the  Future. — Biilow  ip  the  United  States. — Individual  Traits. 
— His  Style  and  Theory  of  the  Art  of  Playing. 

If  creation  or  poetic  passion,  scarcely  to  be  re- 
strained within  the  limits  of  the  set  task  before 
him,  gives  distinction  to  the  playing  of  Rubin- 
stein, acute  subtlety  of  interpretation,  quenching- 
self  in  an  intellectual  process,  stamped  the  art 
of  the  late  Hans  von  Billow,  whose  death  is  a 
matter  of  recent  record.  There  was  something  of 
the  drill-sergeant  in  the  bearing  of  the  puny  figure 
surmounted  by  a regal  head,  the  assertion  of  a di- 
dactic mission.  And  what  surpassing  qualities  for 
the  work ! Power  of  analysis  attaining  genius ; 
sympathy  alike  ardent  and  versatile,  equally  tactile 
in  laying  hold  of  the  heart  of  every  school ; con- 
science in  art  which  never  deviated  from  the 
straight  line  ; grasp  of  detail  little  less  than  micro- 
scopic, yet  ordered  by  the  sense  of  proportion  ; 
his  memory  a chart  that  never  tricked  him  in  a 
dot ; power  of  technique  which  no  comparison  can 
belittle — surely  the  fairy  god-mother  gave  this 
master  every  gift  but  one,  the  creative  instinct. 

Dr.  Hans  Guido  von  Billow,  born  in  Dresden, 


BULOW. 


343 


January  8,  1830,  and  son  of  the  novelist,  Baron 
von  Biilow,  took  early  music-lessons  of  Wieck,  the 
father  of  Clara  Schumann,  more  Germcinico , with 
no  ulterior  motive  at  that  time.  When  he  went 
to  Leipsic  University,  at  the  age  of  eighteen, 
to  study  law,  his  innate  passion  struggled  hard 
against  the  family  wish ; and,  on  taking  his  de- 
gree, Liszt’s  advice  turned  the  scale  with  him. 
He  had  already  studied  counterpart  and  composi- 
tion under  Hauptman  while  digging  at  the  law, 
and  shortly  after  we  find  him  conducting  an  or- 
chestra at  Zurich.  Biilow  was  stirred  by  the  revo- 
lutionary fury  of  1848,  borne  along  by  that  stream 
of  revolt  which  convulsed  politics  and  art  alike. 
He  made  Wagner’s  acquaintance  at  Zurich  with  a 
mind  ripe  for  seeding,  and  the  music-drama  struck 
into  the  soil  with  roots  of  conviction  sturdy 
enough  in  after-years  to  withstand  the  most  terri- 
ble strain  which  the  passion  and  pride  of  man  can 
endure.  He  was  Wagner’s  pupil  for  a while,  and 
thence  he  hastened  to  Weimar,  where  he  studied 
the  piano  for  several  years  under  Liszt. 

His  first  appearance  as  a public  pianist  was  in 
1852  at  a festival  conducted  by  Liszt.  He  con- 
quered prompt  recognition  as  one  with  whom  there- 
after the  musical  world  must  reckon.  Following 
the  track  of  Liszt,  he  had  burst  the  bonds  of  clan- 
spirit,  and,  with  catholic  largeness  of  soul,  made 
the  most  divergent  masterpieces  luminous  by  his 

skill.  His  concert  tours  evoked  unaffected  enthu- 
28 


344  the  great  violinists  and  pianists. 

siasm.  He  played  and  he  wrote,  for  he  used  his 
pen  most  adroitly,  and  plunged  into  the  thick  of  the 
raging  Wagner  controversy,  leading  the  charge  of 
the  new  propaganda  with  the  elan  of  a Murat  or  a 
Ziethen.  He  ceased  nomadism  for  a while  by 
taking  Kuilak’s  place  at  the  Berlin  Conservatoire, 
and  here  he  remained  with  interruptions  of  con- 
cert-touring for  nine  years.  But  it  was  not  merely 
as  pianist  that  he  stormed  public  interest.  He  was 
recognized  as  one  of  the  most  brilliant  orchestral 
conductors  who  ever  lived.  He  played  on  the  or- 
chestra as  he  would  on  a piano.  “ Ach,  hein  ! ” he 
would  say,  rubbing  his  hands  with  naive  delight, 
“ didn’t  I do  well  on  my  Bechstein  to-night  ? ” after 
some  superb  symphony  performance. 

In  1864  Billow,  with  his  wife  Cosima,  the 
natural  daughter  of  Liszt  and  Countess  d’Agoult 
(the  brilliant  “ Daniel  Stern  ”),  who  had  then  been 
his  wife  for  seven  years,  became  domesticated  at 
Munich,  as  he  had  accepted  the  appointment  of 
director  of  the  Royal  Opera  and  of  the  Conserva- 
toire. The  Billows,  Liszt,  and  Wagner  lived  on 
terms  of  the  closest  intimacy,  and  it  is  much  to  be 
regretted  that  this  musical  copartnership  should 
have  ended  in  a burning  scandal  which  broke 
utterly  the  personal  friendship  between  Wagner 
and  his  most  dashing  partisan.  The  catastrophe 
occurred  in  1869,  culminating  in  Frau  Cosima’s 
divorce  from  Billow  and  her  espousing  Wagner. 
This  betrayal  of  friendship  is  the  more  notable 


BULOW. 


345 


as  Biilow  alike  as  musician  and  writer  had  served 
Wagner  more  effectively  than  any  other  apostle  of 
the  new  school,  Liszt  excepted.  But  Billow  drew 
the  distinction  between  the  composer  and  the  man, 
and  the  sore  wound  which  he  had  received  did  not 
in  the  least  abate  his  zeal  for  the  Wagner  cult. 

He  resumed  his  concert  tours,  playing  in  Italy, 
France,  and  England,  in  all  of  which  countries 
musical  sentiment  had  been  decidedly  alien  to 
Wagnerism,  and  devoted  a considerable  place  on 
his  programmes  to  the  so-called  advanced  music 
with  signal  success.  In  1875  the  first  appearance 
of  Billow  on  his  American  tour  occurred  Novem- 
ber 15th,  at  Chickering  Hall,  New  York.  He  gave 
one  hundred  and  thirty-nine  concerts,  and  found 
transatlantic  audiences  not  less  appreciative  than 
those  of  the  Old  World.  His  receipts  were  large, 
but  it  is  said  he  lost  the  profits  of  the  enterprise 
through  the  dishonesty  of  a rogue  connected  with 
the  management.  After  his  return  to  Europe, 
with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  brief  concert 
trips,  he  gave  himself  up  to  conducting  opera  and 
orchestra  at  Hanover,  Meiningen,  Berlin,  and 
Hamburg.  In  1882  he  contributed  $10,000  to  the 
fund  for  the  “ Parsifal  ” festival  at  Bayreuth,  and 
at  once  scandal  gave  tongue  that  he  was  about  to 
marry  his  former  wife.  The  illness  which  carried 
off  Billow  at  Cairo,  Egypt,  February  13, 1893,  was 
of  long  standing,  though  it  had  never  invalided 
him. 


346  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


In  further  characterizing  Billow  as  a player  it 
is  not  needful  to  discuss  technique.  More  than  a 
few  living  players  are  fully  his  equals  in  the  me- 
chanics of  the  art,  great  adept  as  he  was.  His  dis- 
tinction was  a certain  passionate  intellectualism 
and  veracity  of  purpose.  His  searching  insight, 
for  example,  made  Bach  and  Beethoven  a revela- 
tion even  to  musicians,  a power  of  interpretation 
as  striking  in  orchestra-leading  as  in  piano-play- 
ing, and  he  completely  obliterated  himself  in  the 
opus  which  it  was  his  duty  to  make  alive.  His 
playing  was  like  a lamp  set  inside  of  a porcelain 
vase,  revealing  the  exactest  definition  of  line  and 
tint  imposed  by  the  maker’s  design.  He  was  thus 
foremost  of  teachers  in  musical  ethics.  His  mem- 
ory was  so  prodigious  that  playing  even  the  most 
complicated  work  once  left  it  indelible.  Whether 
in  playing  or  conducting  he  never  used  a score, 
never  made  a blunder.  His  artist  work  aside, 
Billow  won  the  admiration  of  all  students  by  an 
edition  of  the  piano-forte  classics,  which  was  a mar- 
vel of  painstaking  study  in  textual  interpretation. 

The  man  was  not  less  interesting  than  the  mu- 
sician. Noble-born,  vivacious,  witty,  with  globules 
of  Gallic  quicksilver  dancing  in  his  veins,  German 
of  Germans  that  he  was,  he  was  fitted  to  score  his 
mark  in  other  fields.  When  Germany  was  making 
history  so  fast  in  the  sixties  and  seventies,  his  art 
could  not  altogether  quench  his  regrets  for  the 
flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  for  he  came  of  the  blood  of 


BULOW. 


347 


those  who  had  been  famous  in  camp  and  council, 
and  a brilliant,  many-sided  intellect  kept  him  in- 
tensely alive  to  all  the  interests  of  his  age.  He 
had  been  associated  with  many  great  lives.  He 
knew  and  loved  Heine,  dying  on  his  “ mattress 
grave,”  and  was  an  intimate  of  the  great  socialist, 
Ferdinand  Lassalle,  his  published  correspondence 
with  whom  has  become  a part  of  the  history  of  the 
epoch.  A personal  friend  and  fiery  partisan  of 
Prince  Bismarck,  he  could  keep  neither  tongue 
nor  pen  out  of  politics.  He  met  young  Emperor 
William’s  pompous  warning  to  his  subjects — that 
those  who  objected  to  his  rule  “might  shake  the 
dust  of  Germany  from  their  feet  ” — in  a character- 
istic way  at  a symphony  concert.  The  last  per- 
formance on  the  stage  that  night  was  a smart  dust- 
ing of  his  pumps,  and  the  parting  shot  that  he 
should  quit  Berlin  by  the  first  train. 

Great  musician  as  he  was,  he  did  not  scale  the 
topmost  heights,  for  this  requires  wings.  But 
within  the  limits  of  his  temperament  Bulow  was 
an  artist  of  superb  equipment.  He  was  one  to 
have  gone  to  the  stake  for  an  opinion,  so  intense 
was  his  conviction.  And,  oddly,  with  this  tenacity 
and  passion  of  enthusiasm,  he  united  such  versa- 
tile gifts  that  he  could  have  adorned  almost  any 
career — soldier,  man  of  the  pen,  lawyer,  or  what 
not.  If  his  own  art  had  not  embalmed  him  in  its 
amber,  some  other  profession  would  have  made 
him  memorable. 


PADEREWSKI. 


Transcendent  Success  of  the  Polish  Artist. — Fame  won  through 
his  American  Laurels. — Early  Education. — His  Attempts  in 
Composition. — Secret  of  his  Fascination  as  Player. — The  Most 
Genial  and  Sympathetic  of  Executants. 

Since  the  tours  of  Rubinstein  and  Billow  in 
America,  we  have  heard  many  fascinating  pianists, 
such  as  Essipov,  Joseffy,  Pachmann,  D’Albert, 
Rummel,  Scharwenka,  and  others,  but  none  of 
them  so  incontestably  rises  to  that  dignity  assured 
by  originality  of  genius  working  through  tech- 
nical skill  as  the  great  player  who  perpetuates  the 
birthright  of  Chopin  in  race  and  temperament. 
The  impression  made  by  Paderewski  during  his 
two  recent  visits  reached  the  proportions  of  a mu- 
sical craze,  and  this  artist  has  the  distinction,  if 
such  it  be,  of  having  received  the  greatest  finan- 
cial reward  ever  won  by  a pianist  in  the  American 
El  Dorado.  The  last  season  is  said  to  have  yielded 
him  a sum  in  excess  of  a quarter  million  dollars. 
His  standing  can  not  be  better  generalized  than 
in  the  words  of  one  of  our  own  most  finished  per- 
formers : “ Paderewski  is  unquestionably  an  in- 
spired and  phenomenal  pianist.  He  possesses  the 
power  of  interesting  and  arousing  the  enthusiasm 
of  an  audience  of  the  highest  musical  culture,  as 


IGNACE  JAN  PADEREWSKI. 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  of  ILLINOIS, 


PADEREWSKI. 


349 


at  Berlin,  and  of  giving  pleasure  and  delight  to 
one  of  less  musical  intelligence  and  simpler  taste, 
as  in  some  English  provincial  town.” 

Ignace  Jan  Paderewski  was  born  in  Podolia, 
a province  of  Russian  Poland,  in  1860,  of  a family 
of  the  country  gentry,  a class  so  closely  interwoven 
with  the  most  splendid  things  in  Polish  life  and 
history.  Left  to  run  almost  wild — for  his  youth 
was  motherless — his  untutored  fancies  were  steeped 
in  the  sights  and  sounds  of  Nature,  though  his 
gifts  for  music,  which  lisped  from  babyhood,  had 
but  haphazard  training  for  a long  time.  But  a 
marvelous  musical  ear,  and  the  brain  power  behind 
the  jugglery  of  the  fingers,  extracted  gold  from 
the  ore.  It  is  said  that  the  thrilling  tone  quality 
of  his  ripened  art  was  not  lacking  when  the  lad, 
only  twelve  years  old,  first  went  to  the  Conserva- 
tory of  Warsaw  and  took  to  study  in  earnest. 
Here  he  plunged  into  the  intricacies  of  harmony 
and  counterpoint  under  Roguski,  and  studied  the 
piano  with  Janotha,  then  a veteran  of  eighty,  the 
father  of  Natalie,  so  often  mentioned  by  Rubin- 
stein in  his  autobiography.  Young  Paderewski, 
whose  education  had  been  neglected,  pursued  his 
literary  studies  side  by  side  with  music,  and  worked 
with  tireless  ardor  for  four  years,  swallowing  lan- 
guages with  Sclavic  ease,  and  widening  the  bounds 
of  culture  without  which  art  misses  its  finer  bloom. 
The  Russian  tour,  which  he  made  at  sixteen,  too, 
was  a new  impulse  in  his  education.  Crude  in 


350  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 


technique,  he  played  with  wild,  spontaneous  magic, 
as  Orpheus  might  have  sung  on  his  lute,  a message 
straight  to  the  heart,  for  he  seems  to  have  had 
even  then  that  subtle  touch  of  his  audience  which 
is  one  of  the  secrets  of  his  fascination,  and  this 
musical  Wanderjahre  gave  him  fresh  insight  as 
well  as  outlook. 

A short  married  life  of  a year — for  he  was  mar- 
ried at  nineteen — followed  by  the  passionate  grief 
of  loss,  seems  to  have  plowed  up  the  depths  of  the 
nether  man.  He  had  been  made  professor  at 
Warsaw,  but  he  could  not  remain  there  in  his 
desolation,  and  so  went  to  Berlin  for  further 
study  in  composition  under  Kiel  and  Heinrich 
Urban,  where  he  lived  in  great  poverty.  It  is 
said,  under  authority  of  Madame  Modjeska,  who 
knew  him  at  this  period,  that  his  playing  was 
only  becoming  technically  good,  and,  though  bril- 
liant, could  scarcely  be  called  that  of  a virtuoso, 
though  he  extemporized  exquisitely  in  the  charac- 
teristic style  of  all  the  composers  from  Palestrina 
to  Chopin.  It  was  not  till  after  he  studied  under 
Leschelitzky  in  1886  that  he  became  one  of  the 
great  master-players  and  his  powers  of  execution 
reached  full  development.  To  the  suggestions 
and  oversight  of  this  teacher,  Paderewski  attrib- 
utes the  finish  and  security  of  his  method,  that 
automatic  work  of  the  fingers  in  registering  mu- 
sical emotion  and  purpose,  which  is  called  vir- 
tuosity. He  was  with  Leschelitzky  only  seven 


PADEREWSKI. 


351 


months,  but  he  was  finishing  work  built  on  solid 
masonry,  and  he  packed  the  toil  of  seven  years 
into  its  compass. 

Paderewski’s  true  debut  was  at  Vienna  in  1887, 
and  it  crowned  him  as  one  of  the  princes  of 
the  blood.  His  concert  tours  through  Germany, 
France,  England,  and  America  (in  this  country  in 
1891-’92  and  1892-’93)  have  consistently  augment- 
ed the  greatness  of  his  name,  and  added  another 
shining  figure  to  that  procession  where  Thalberg, 
Liszt,  Billow,  and  Rubinstein  tower  above  their 
brilliant  fellows.  As  composer,  he  has  produced 
some  delightful  dance-music,  several  minor  master- 
pieces for  the  piano,  and  two  concertos.  Rumor 
affirms  that  he  is  now  busy  on  an  opera,  but  his 
musical  fame  is  as  yet  chiefly  associated  with 
achievement  as  a player. 

In  an  age  of  extreme  virtuosity  his  technical 
accomplishment  goes  without  saying.  To  re- 
hearse the  jargon  of  criticism  does  not  reveal  his 
secret.  This  lives  in  the  deep  sympathies  of  the 
poet,  irradiating  music  as  with  a sunburst,  mak- 
ing graphic  its  lights  and  shadows;  making  in- 
carnate its  pathos,  “ rerum  lacrymas  ” ; making 
its  gayety  infectiously  sparkling.  Such  insight 
of  temperament,  “ commingled  of  fire  and  dew,” 
enables  Paderewski  to  kindle  primitive  emotion 
through  its  musical  symbols  with  a fire  as  catch- 
ing to  the  unsophisticated  soul  as  to  the  connois- 
seur. It  must  have  fed  richly  on  its  suffering, 


352  THE  GREAT  VIOLINISTS  AND  PIANISTS. 

for  the  artist  is  said  to  have  drained  the  bitter 
cup  of  sorrow  to  the  dregs,  before  it  could  pour 

. into  one  startled  hour  a life’s  felicity 
And  highest  bliss  of  knowledge — that  all  life,  grief,  wrong, 
Turns  at  the  last  to  beauty  and  to  song.” 

It  is  not  the  vision  of  Rubinstein,  sitting  in  rapt 
isolation;  nor  of  a Billow  with  his  calm,  keen 
look  as  of  a chess-master  solving  a problem.  The 
memory  of  Paderewski  is  that  of  a gracious,  vivid 
image,  who  plays  to  a thousand  with  a finger  on 
every  stop  of  the  heart,  with  an  intimate  tender- 
ness, as  if  he  were  addressing  the  one  person  who 
was  his  own  twin  spirit. 


THE  END. 


